Supermom She's Not
by Beboppin' Betty
Summary: Updated Ch 26! Ill prepared for motherhood at nineteen, Cordelia's life is thrown in a tailspin when she gives birth following 'Expecting' in S1. Life as she knows it is irrevocably changed as the trio face a whole new set of unexpected challenges.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I own nothing related to the Angelverse. Any originals are mine.

A/N: This is in response to the **And Babies Make Nine **challenge posted by Kat at chocolate covered strawberries.

Also, this story will by no means win any Pulitzers -- it's just a fun little thing that I'm doing because I thought the challenge was interesting. It takes place at the end of _Expecting _in season one. Instead of the demon spawn disappearing, the girls go into labour.

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The second the liquid nitrogen hit the demon, Cordelia felt the telepathic hold it's spawn had over her disappear completely. And the first thing that entered her newly free mind was _Ew. _She was currently standing in a vat of the most vile, rancid, _nasty_ goop she had _ever _seen -- God only knew what it would do to her tan.

Then her anger took over and she climbed out of the pit, trying valiantly not to breathe in the smell, and marched over to Wes and Angel. Wesley backed up as she approached, but she barely noticed. What she _did _notice was the big pulley hanging on a rope, and the fact that it was directly in line with the frozen demon daddy that had knocked her up. Grabbing hold of it, she reared back and let it fly, feeling immensely gratified when the Popsicle Papa shattered.

"I hate dating," she commented idly. "Can we get out of here? I need to take the world's longest shower...." She trailed off at the looks her partners were giving her -- or rather, her stomach. Looking down, she gasped. "But....how? They were supposed to go away when the...."

Wesley jumped in, sensing that Cordelia was on the verge of panic. "Theoretically, yes, the spawn should disappear. Perhaps it just takes a little time."

"And if it doesn't?" She demanded shrilly. "What then? Am I actually going to have to give _birth_? Or-" She paused, her mind finally coming to the conclusion that Wesley himself had drawn. "Or are they going to die... in there? Are they going to die inside me and just stay there!?"

Angel started forward, stopped, totally unsure of himself. "Cordy...."

"What?" She snapped. "What's going to happen to me, Angel?" Her voice wavered near the end, a sign of genuine fear -- something that was rare of Cordelia Chase. The vampire sighed and then reached for her hand. "I don't know, Cordy, but we'll figure it out. I promise."

Marginally placated by the promise, Cordelia felt some of the fear abate. "Damn well better be soon. I can't st-" She stopped mid-sentence and clutched her abdomen as a sharp, piercing pain took control. "_Ow._" The last time she'd felt anything remotely similar to it was when she was run through with rebar in that factory in Sunnydale, and she had absolutely no desire to reminisce.

Immediately both men were at her side, firing off questions left and right. She ignored them until the pain faded. "Guys, I think I'm in....in labour."

If the situation hadn't been so damn unreal and absurd, she might have laughed at the identical expressions of horror on her friends' faces -- only because she knew it wasn't about her giving birth to demons; it was about the fact that she was _giving birth, _and they had no idea what to do about it.

And then the situation only got more complicated. As the guys argued over their limited options, a voice from behind spoke up. It was Serena, the woman who'd introduced Cordelia to that scum Wilson Christopher in the first place.

"Hey, um.... we're in labour too."

As one, the three of them swung around to see four women with varying degrees of pained expressions on their faces. Angel and Wesley literally paled to the whitest shade Cordelia had ever seen on a person (dead or not), and she did the first thing that she could think of. She laughed. She laughed until tears streamed down her cheeks and her sides ached.

Then the ache in her side turned into a contraction and her laughter transformed into a gasp of pain.

"Hospital. Now."

Immediately both men objected. "But they're not human..." Wesley admonished. Angel nodded his agreement. Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Fine. If you guys want to deliver multiple babies from five women at the same time, be my guest." Cordy figured that that was the exact moment the gravity of the situation fully dawned on the guys. They exchanged one brief look and replied in unison.

"Hospital. Now."

.......................................

"I am never having sex again!" She said it with fierce determination as yet another doctor 'took a quick peek inside'. "Men should be castrated just for what I'm going through."

Half the OB/GYN department was currently in her room, and every one of them twittered at her exclamation. All new mothers said stuff just like that, they said. But once she saw the face of her little miracle, all thoughts of abstinence and castration would fly right out of her head.

Cordelia was immensely glad they'd given her the drugs already, because if her entire lower half wasn't numb, she would have gotten out of her bed and strangled them all. Plus, the no pain thing was pretty great too.

Angel was also in the room, but she'd made sure he didn't venture past the middle of the bed. Just because every other person who walked in the room got to take a look at her goods didn't mean he got to. Still, she was glad he was there for support. She didn't think she could do it without him. He'd been handling most of the questions by giving short answers to the serious ones and stonewalling the frivolous ones asked out of curiosity.

And there had been a lot of them.

From the second she and the other women had been brought in (it had taken two trips) they had been a curiosity. No pre-natal medical history on any of them, all multiple births, all single women, and all in labour at the same time.

Thankfully Wesley had managed to cover with a fairly convincing story. He'd said that they were members of a support group catering specially to single pregnant women with multiples. The due dates had strictly been coincidental. The hospital staff had been too concerned with taking care of the women to ask too many questions, and in fact had had to send two of the girls to other hospitals because they didn't have enough staff to deal with all five. Cordelia had been whisked away, Angel close on her heels, while Wes had graciously offered to take care of the paperwork.

Two hours later she was laid up in a hospital bed, numbed from the epidural, and just about ready to push. All things considered, the doctors informed her, things were progressing very quickly.

Cordelia didn't bother to repress the snort. They had no idea.

And then, just like that, the doctor planted herself on a stool at the base of the bed and told her to bring her knees up to her chest. All Cordelia could do was stare. "What?" The nurse on her right mistook her confusion and grabbed her knee, demonstrating what was to be done. Cordelia felt paralyzed with shock and dully pulled her left leg up to match. Angel held her leg in place while trying to keep his eyes on hers.

By that point she didn't care what he looked at. She just wanted the entire ordeal over and done with.

The doctor smiled up at her. "Ready?"

"No," she whispered. She wasn't ready for it -- she didn't want it; she didn't even _want_ children_. _At all. Kids had never factored into her life plan. Step-kids, maybe, but that was it. And because of that, she actually hoped the babies were demonic, no matter how many lies and stories they'd have to tell, just so long as she didn't have to be a mom.

"Okay Cordelia," the doctor said. "Push."

And so she did. She pushed and pushed until the cows came home until finally -- _finally! _-- Doc exclaimed that Baby A was crowning! Silently she locked eyes with Angel and pleaded. Mercifully he understood and looked down at said crowning baby. Through the haze of pure physical exertion, she tried to study his face, but all she could see was awe.

Awe didn't explain anything. She could have been literally pushing out a litter of kittens and he'd have had that stupid look on his face.

"Well?" She prodded quietly as Doc said to stop pushing. Angel's mouth was still hanging open as he replied, "It's a..."

"Girl!" Doc exclaimed, finishing his sentence and holding up the slimy yet human infant. At the sight of the pink face, Cordelia could only think one thing:

Crap.

"Okay," Doc said cheerfully. "One down, five to go!"

Double crap.


	2. ch 2

A/N: In case anyone brings it up, I'm aware that she is actually pregnant with seven, but six was stipulated in the challenge (and, frankly, it's easier).

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It was finally over. She was the most exhausted she'd ever been in her life, but it was over. All six babies were out and had been taken to the NICU, and for the first time since she'd arrived at the hospital, she was alone.

She relished the silence -- it gave her time to think, to rest. So of course it didn't last long. She'd just started to doze off when there was a knock at the door and Angel and Wesley poked their heads in.

They smiled, she frowned. They gave her flowers, she instructed them where to put them. They pulled chairs up on either side of her bed, she sighed. Looked like she wasn't getting sleep any time soon.

"So," Wesley said, studying her intently. "How are you feeling?"

She glared. That had to be the stupidest question _ever. _How did he think she was feeling? "I feel like a parade just went through my vag-"

"Right, okay," He interrupted hastily. "How are you doing emotionally?"

The question was so uncharacteristically blunt for Wesley that Cordelia smiled for the first time in hours. "I think I'm starting to rub off on you, Wes. Yeah, so, emotionally? I'm a train wreck. I can't have six babies! I'm only nineteen! I shouldn't even have _one_!" And at that, she burst into tears.

Of the two, it was Angel who moved to comfort her. She let him hug her and try to soothe away her worries, but finally put a stop to it. "I can't deal with this, guys. I'm not ready for motherhood. I mean, I didn't even get that nine-month cushion to adjust to the whole thing! I don't even know _how _to take care of babies! I can't do it."

"Yes you can, Cordy," Angel said calmly, like he had every bit of his faith in her. "And we're going to do it with you. We're a family now, and that means that we're in this together."

"Angel, you can't just -- what about fighting the good fight, y'know? Your job?"

"We'll manage," Wesley put in, secretly touched to the core that Angel had included him in his gaze when he'd called them family. "A few sacrifices will have to be made, but we'll find a way."

"No, we won't!" She snapped suddenly, startling her companions. "You don't get it -- I don't _want _to find a way! I don't want these babies! I've never in my life wanted to be a mother, and just because some demon slimeball knocked me up doesn't change that! And what kind of life would these kids have, anyway? Having a mother who never wanted you isn't the best way to grow up. Trust me, I know. And we'd be poor to boot. We barely make enough to keep the business afloat as it is -- I don't even have a clue how I'm going to pay the hospital bill. And food and all that baby crap times six? Come on, guys! We can't do it."

She sank back into her pillow, the exhaustion from everything that had happened that day finally catching up with her. Silently the three of them absorbed what had just been said, contemplating the next step.

"Okay, so that presents a bit of a problem." Angel broke the silence first, standing up to pace. Wesley nodded his agreement. "Don't forget that these children are at least part demon spawn. Just because they look human doesn't mean they are. We can't very well just let these children get absorbed into the system and wash our hands of the matter."

Folding her arms across her chest, Cordelia refused to cave. She fixed Wesley with a pointed look. "Have you ever spent more than a few hours alone with a child?" At his begrudging negative, Cordelia nodded once. "That's what I thought. So let me enlighten you -- _all _children are at least part demon. They're sticky, smelly, whiny little monsters that soak up every single cent you bring home at the end of the week."

From his position at the foot of her bed, Angel gaped. Catching his look of disbelief, Cordy called him on it. "What?"

"I never thought you were so....."

"Shallow? Cold-hearted? Newsflash, Angel! Either you're completely oblivious or blocking me out unless I get a vision, because that's me in a nutshell. I am a bitch. Get used to it."

Angel blinked once, then again. Even Wesley was taken aback at her outburst, but she refused to feel bad about it. Instead, she got defensive. "Don't you dare give me that look, Angel. I know for a fact that the only time you went near a baby was if you wanted an entree. Look, I don't know why you two are so adamant about keeping these babies, but the answer is no."

Angel couldn't argue with her about the entree comment, and he didn't know why he wanted them, but he did. So he decided to play dirty.

"Fine, you win. On one condition." Instead of waiting for her reply, he pulled the wheelchair that was sitting in the far corner of the room over to the side of her bed. Instinctively she knew what he wanted her to do. She didn't want to see them, but if she did then he would just drop it and they could go home.

Heaving a great sigh of injustice, she swung her legs over the edge of the mattress.

"Five minutes, Angel. Then we're out of here."

.........................................

They were cute.

Damn.

The little brats were cute -- adorable even -- and she had played right into Angel's hand.

Damn vampire. She was sorely tempted to dust his ass right there in front of the entire room full of people and preemies.

Angel led her from baby to baby, cooing at each of them in his own weird way, telling them how cute they were, which little girl would be a heartbreaker when she grew up. Truthfully, Cordelia couldn't tell one from the other, aside from the fact that three of them were male and the other three female.

By the time they reached the fourth baby Cordelia had had enough of Angel's baby-talk. "Knock it off -- you're creeping me out. Probably scarring these poor kids for life."

All Angel did was bite back a smile.

At baby five, Cordelia noticed the distinct lack of Wesley. When she asked Angel about it, he merely shrugged. "Probably flirting with the nurses. They were all over him earlier." Thinking about it, Cordy could totally see it. He had the sexy accent, and wasn't hard on the eyes. It was once you got to know his less than stellar qualities that most women (or at least she) got turned off. Still, despite the giant stick that was up his ass most days, Wesley had turned out to be a pretty good friend.

When they hit baby number six, Cordelia was getting tired. She knew Angel had expected her to change her mind once she saw them, but she was about to disappoint him. True, the kids _were _cute and all, but that just wasn't enough to sway her.

"I want to go back to my room now. I'm exhausted."

She refused to let Angel's crestfallen look guilt her. The guilt trip _never _worked on Cordelia Chase. She didn't look back as they left the unit, not as Angel sighed behind her, not even when one of the kids started to fuss about something. She just kept on going.

...................................

The hall was dark, illuminated only from the lights at the nurses' station. It was quiet, but that was expected, being well past two in the morning. Her weird schedule at work that kept her up to all hours of the night and the overwhelming need to pee had Cordelia roaming the sterile halls of the maternity ward well past any normal bedtime.

Completely against her will, she found herself at the entrance of the NICU. The room was well lit, and for the first time Cordelia noticed that all the other babies in the unit were tiny little things in incubators. Not hers, though. All six of them were in their own little bassinets, and while they were small, they were much healthier looking than the rest. Just as she was debating on whether to go in or return to her room, she overheard a couple of nurses talking just inside the doorway.

"Unbelievable, isn't it? I couldn't imagine going through with the pregnancy just to give all seven of them away."

There was a very unladylike snort. "I couldn't image having seven kids, period. Let alone in one sitting. I'd have gotten the abortion, personally."

Cordelia frowned. She hadn't told anyone on staff about her decision to give the kids up for adoption yet, so she knew they weren't talking about her. _That means one of the others is doing it too. I wonder who... _It was probably Serena. Cordelia didn't know the other women, but she did know Serena. And Serena Carter was probably less fit for motherhood than her.

Pushing her wandering thoughts aside, she focussed back on the nurses.

"What about the other one?" The second voice asked. Nurse One responded, "Which? Harper or Chase?"

"Either. Both."

"I don't know about Chase, but from what I hear about Harper, she's thinking it over. She didn't have it as bad as the others. She only had four. Apparently she told Brenda that she wanted kids at some point, but not four, and not at her age. Only twenty-four."

"So?" Nurse Two lowered her voice, and Cordelia strained to hear. "She thinks she's got it tough? Chase has six -- and she's only _nineteen_!"

Thank you! Cordelia thought, glad that someone else shared her opinion on the matter.

"Christ," Nurse One muttered. "What the hell were these girls thinking? Doesn't anyone teach safe sex anymore?" At that comment, Cordelia rolled her eyes. She was willing to bet that when that old broad was her age, she didn't think twice about protection when she jumped in the sack.

"In any case," the nurse continued, "I feel bad for these kids. They'll all get split up once they're in the system. Lord only knows how long it'll take for all of them to get adopted -- especially if Harper and Chase follow Carter's example."

Damn, damn, double damn!

Expelling a breath of frustration, Cordelia quietly marched into the room, much to the surprise of the two gossipy nurses. Ignoring them completely, she went over to have a look at her brood. They were grouped together in one area, all swaddled in pink or blue blankets and sleeping soundly, with the exception of the one second from the right. Unlike his siblings, the tiny little boy had his eyes wide open, was looking around in wonder, and was flinging his arms all over the place.

Cordelia just stood there, hands jammed in the pockets of her robe, and watched. It was kind of cool, she begrudgingly admitted to herself, seeing this kid experience the world for the very first time.

She was so engrossed in watching him that she didn't hear the nurse approach. "It's time for feeding, would you like to do it?" Cordelia's hands immediately flew up to her chest, and the nurse laughed. "I assumed you wouldn't be breast feeding, so I've got his bottle ready." She didn't think she could have breast fed if she'd wanted to -- from what she could tell, she was dry as a bone. Probably a side effect to the whole twenty-four hour pregnancy deal.

"Go ahead, pick him up. You are allowed to, you know. He is your son, after all."

"Uh.... the last time I held a baby was when I was fourteen."

"Okay, no problem." And with that, the nurse scooped up the kid and plopped him into Cordelia's arms. She scrambled to hold onto the thing while Nursey shrugged. "Easy as pie. Just support his head. You can go on over to the rocking chair to feed him, holler when he's finished."

And then she was gone, swiftly checking on charts and babies like it was the easiest thing in the world, while Cordelia could barely manage to hold the baby and the bottle at the same time.

"Look, kid," she said as she finally got herself situated in the chair. "I am obviously not cut out for this. I just do not have room in my life for you guys. I mean, hello? I live with a _ghost_! And I work for a vampire, and my life is threatened on a daily basis and-"

She stopped her rant short as she realized that she was trying to explain herself to a person less than a day old. That didn't bother her so much as the fact that she felt like she needed to explain herself in the first place. And because of it, she got angry and glared down at the kid in her lap.

The little brat just stared up at her while he sucked on the bottle, completely oblivious to her inner turmoil. Then his little brow furrowed (at least, that's what it looked like) and she got the sudden feeling that he was thinking something dumb like: _don't blame me, mom. It's totally not my fault._

It was so damn cute and infuriating all at the same time, and in that instant Cordelia knew that living with Angel after this would be a nightmare.

"Fine, Angel wins. But he's in charge of diaper duty."


	3. ch 3

A/N: For the sake of continuity and storylines and all that, let's say that pretty much everything from seasons 1-3 has and will still happen in this little universe, with the exception of Connor and the firing of C/W/G.

Not my best chapter, but I'm anxious to get to the meat of the story: the kids and how they interact with the Trio.

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She'd laid out her numerous and very specific conditions for taking home the babies to the guys, and they'd agreed immediately. Since the kids were perfectly healthy, the doctor had given permission to take them with her when she checked out, but all three of them had had a problem with that. Thing was, they had the babies, but they didn't have anything else.

A serious shopping trip was in order, which helped appease Cordelia a great deal because it was going to be at Angel's expense. So they left the babies at the hospital and she and Wesley spent an entire day and several thousand dollars on baby stuff while Angel stayed at the office to handle the cases.

"Are you _sure _you want to do this?" They had stopped for lunch, and Cordelia was begging to feel second thoughts trying to push their way in, so she needed reassurance. Wesley paused, fork halfway to his mouth, and thought about it. "I don't see a better alternative," he answered finally.

"Cuz you know this is for life, right? And you and Angel promised me that we're sharing the responsibility equally, so that means you can't just give them back at the end of the day. There are going to be times -- a _lot _of times -- where you'll have to keep some of 'em overnight, so-"

"Cordelia," He interrupted gently. "I understand that. It's a little hard to absorb, but I understand. Angel and I-"

"Are as much their parents as I am, as far as I'm concerned. Are you prepared to be 'Daddy'?"

Wesley stopped, dragged in a breath. He hadn't thought of it like that. Him, a father? That was.... questionable. But then, Cordelia was in the same boat, only worse. "About as prepared as you are to be 'Mummy', but we'll make it work. Okay?" She nodded curtly, then suddenly started to laugh.

"What is it? Do I have something on my face?"

"No. I was just imaging Angel trying to deal with six screaming babies." It certainly painted an amusing picture so Wesley joined in her laughter. "Or worse," he said between giggles. "Six teenagers."

That caused Cordy to laugh harder, then abruptly stop. A look of horror clouded her beautiful features. "Oh my god. _Teenagers_! We're going to have six of them! At once!"

The thought was more unsettling than Wesley could have imagined. Suddenly he wasn't so hungry anymore and pushed his plate away. They sat in contemplative silence for a few moments.

Cordelia reached for her iced tea. "You know what? We'll just let Angel handle the teen years." Wesley smiled, his appetite returning at the thought. "Good idea. And you know, you'll still be a young woman by the time they're almost grown."

She smiled then, brilliantly. "You're right! I didn't think about that. So, dessert? It's on Angel."

"Don't mind if I do."

.................................

"Vision! Oh, God! Angel, vision!"

They had decided to bring the kids to the office for the first day or two until they got a schedule hammered out. They had just stepped over the threshold when she felt telltale sign of a vision start at the back of her skull. She managed to get the two baby carriers she was holding to the floor just before the vision hit, then dropped down next to them as pain and images ripped through her head.

Instantly Angel was at her side, helping her to a chair once the vision was over. "Park on Magnolia; big nasty demon with spikes down it's arms," She gasped out as residual vision pain morphed into a dull ache. "Two teenagers making out. You have to go now. Hurry."

"Wesley, take care of her," he instructed over his shoulder as he grabbed a couple of weapons from the chest and headed out the door.

Drawing in a calming breath, Cordelia went to her desk for some extra-strength Tylenol. Downing three without water, she took stock of the situation. There were babies in carriers littering the floor where she and Angel had dropped them; Wesley was placing his two near the elevator that led to Angel's basement apartment. Moving to gather the rest of the babies, she frowned.

"I knew this would be a disaster."

"What are you talking about?" Wesley asked, adjusting the blanket of the kid in the carrier closest to him. She waved a hand in the direction of the four still spread around the room. "_This_. My visions. What happens if I get one while I'm holding one of them? Or if I'm all alone with them? What about when a demon attacks us here? It's inevitable -- you know it is. What then?"

A blind person could have seen that Cordelia was on the edge, of what he wasn't sure. A breakdown, a tantrum, _something, _so he went over to her and looked her square in the eye. "I understand your concern, Cordelia. I do. But no matter what happens, we will deal with it. We'll do anything we have to to keep them safe."

"Alright," she said, gathering all the strength and confidence she could muster. You're right. These babies are depending on us, and we can't let them down. Here, get these two."

Following her instruction, Wesley picked up the carriers at his feet and placed them in the middle of the room. Cordelia placed the other four beside them in a row so that all six were in a line. Then she rearranged them so that the girls were together on one side and the boys on the other. Fisting her hands on her hips, she stood back to admire her work. Wesley sidled up next to her. "What are you doing?"

"I'm thinking," she muttered. She stared hard at them for another minute in complete silence (a first for her, in Wesley's opinion) before throwing up her hands in defeat. "I can't tell them apart. At all. Can you?"

Wes studied the children hard, searching for distinct characteristics on each -- or any, really. In the end, it proved fruitless. The girls all looked the same, as did the boys. In fact, he wouldn't have even been able to tell the sex if not for the coloured blankets and clothes the babies were wearing, but figured that was typical of all infants.

He finally admitted defeat. "No, I can't."

"That's what I thought. We're going to need to do something to tell them apart. And we have to name them, but we'll wait for Angel for that. What else?"

"Schedule. We need to organize one, who gets which baby when, that sort of thing."

"Okay, you can handle that."

"Why thank you," Wesley replied dryly. "I would also like to do some research on their demon side, see what we can expect from that in the future." Cordelia shuddered at the thought. "Good idea. Great idea, in fact. So we're good?" Wesley nodded. "I really do think things will be fine, Cordelia."

And in that instant the phone started ringing and one of the babies who'd woken without their knowledge started crying, which set the one beside her off too.

Sending Wesley a scathing look, she said, "You just had to open your big mouth, didn't you? You get the girls, I'll get the phone." She picked up the receiver before he had a chance to argue. "Angel Investigations, we help the hopeless."

Wesley sighed and scrambled to shush the girls before they woke any of the others. He finally had to resort to picking one of them up and rocking the other's carrier with his foot. "Cordelia-" She held up a finger as she was jotting down information. Seeing the bind Wes was in, she grinned and stuck her tongue out at him.

A little put out by her insensitivity, he childishly returned the gesture, only to have the bloody woman roll her eyes and turn her back on him. In retaliation he took the baby and placed her on Cordelia's desk to see if she needed a diaper change. She didn't. Then he figured she might be hungry.

"Can you heat up a bottle?" He asked, once Cordelia hung up the phone. She nodded, then stopped. "Where are they?"

"In the bag."

"Where's the bag?"

"You had it earlier, where did you leave it?"

"I don't remember! Wait- in the car. I left it in the car.... which Angel took. Damn."

"Well we can't just let her go hungry until Angel gets back."

"I know that!" Cordelia snapped. "Is your motorcycle here?"

"Yes, why?"

"Then you can go and find Angel and get the food."

He raised a brow. "Or you could walk to the store two blocks away and buy some."

She glared. "Or that." Snatching up her purse, she strode out the door, leaving Wesley alone with two crying infants, and four more who were just beginning to wake up. Sighing heavily, he looked down at the little girl in his arms.

"We no longer just help the hopeless. We _are _the hopeless."


	4. ch 4

Angel was over the moon.

He absolutely adored each and every one of the babies. He changed them, fed them, played with them, and bathed them more often than Cordelia or Wesley could have ever imagined. They were both baffled by his behaviour, but over the two weeks that they'd had the babies, they'd learned to appreciate his attentiveness. This way they could still run the business, and all Angel had to do was go out and kill the baddie. That was when they took control of the kids. It was a welcome and convenient system as far as Cordelia was concerned. She enjoyed every little morsel of normalcy she could get her hands on, even if it was paying the bills or organizing the filing system to her liking, while Wesley whiled away the hours researching and doing Wesley-ish things.

Still, she knew that her life would never be the same now that she was a mom. Mom. Thinking about it still wigged her out, but she was slowly getting used to the idea. The rugrats were even growing on her. They'd started developing their own unique personalities, and on more than one occasion Cordelia had caught herself wondering what they'd be like as they grew up. It was neat to imagine one or two of them becoming famous actors in the future, seeing as her career had taken an unexpected hiatus. She even had an idea which would be the likeliest to follow in their mother's footsteps: Baby C, who just _had _to be the center of attention (when one of her siblings was getting attention, she started to cry until she got it too), and maybe Baby E, the charmer of the bunch.

The instant she realized that she'd automatically called her daughter and son 'Baby C-and-E, she decided enough was enough. They'd been casually suggesting names over the past couple of weeks, but none had stuck. It had gone on long enough, she thought. It was about damn time to give the kids actual names. The timing couldn't have been better either, because all of the kids were napping in the apartment downstairs.

Calling Angel out of his office and dragging Wes away from his books, Cordelia got down to business. "We are going to sit down right now and name these babies." The tone of her voice was one both men knew well. It meant that she would not take no for an answer -- not that they were about to argue. They both agreed that names were necessary.

Angel immediately pulled up a chair. "Good. I've been thinking about that lately, too."

"Any ideas?" She asked, pulling out a pad of paper, pen poised and ready to write.

"Um, Sean, Kieran, Eamon-"

"Eamon? I can't even _spell _that. And I dated a Sean once, so that's out. Kieran, maybe." She wrote the name on her pad under _Boys. _"You do know you can suggest some non-Irish ones, right?" She turned her attention to Wesley. "What about you? And don't give me any weird English names either," she cautioned before he could get started.

He just rolled his eyes and helped himself to one of the last donuts. "Fine. I like the names Jonathan-"

"Jonathan Chase," she tried it out, shook her head. "Sounds too pretentious."

"Anna-"

"Too old-fashioned."

"James-"

"Too common."

"Caleb-"

"Too.... actually, I like that one." She wrote it down on the list, along with a few of her choices.

"What was that?" Wesley demanded, annoyed with the way she'd shot his down. Angel leaned forward and tried to snatch the notepad from her hands, but she held it out of his reach. "Forget it, mister. If you must know what they are, I'll read them." She listed the names she'd added, and for each one, either Wes or Angel had a reason they didn't like it.

"Fine," she huffed. "I assume you have a better suggestion?"

They thought they did, but an hour later they had only agreed on two names, one of Wesley's picking, one of Angel's. Frustrated with the utter lack of progress, Cordelia came up with a compromise. "This is getting us nowhere. Why don't we just divide them up, each gets to name a girl and a boy? If we really, really hate the names then we'll negotiate, but otherwise we live with it. Deal?"

The guys took a second to think it over, but in the end they agreed. This time she had the foresight to realize that there would be much argument over who got what baby, so she wrote A-F on pieces of paper and balled them up, making the decision totally random. They all drew a piece from the boy and girl piles. Cordelia ended up with Baby D and Baby B, the first one of her children that she ever held. Angel got her two little actors to be, calling them Darren and Bridget, and Wesley chose Caleb and Libby -- named for his grandmother -- for his two.

But she couldn't just pull a couple of names out of the air like the guys. She needed to pick a name based on their personality. She didn't tell the boys why she needed time to think about it because she thought her reason might come off as silly, and Cordelia Chase was _not_ silly.

It took her three days to make her decision, and in that time she watched her two more closely than she'd ever watched any of them. By doing it, she learned a great deal about her children. Baby D was probably the most unique of them all simply because she refused to do anything that her siblings did. When they all slept, she was wide awake. When they ate, she wouldn't open her mouth for anything. When they got cranky or playful, she was just the opposite. She was different and unique, so that was the type of name she needed. In the end, Cordelia decided on Ivy.

Baby B was pretty unique in his own right. He was the calmest of the bunch, the most curious. All he did all day was look around at things, studying them so hard Cordelia thought he was filling his diaper half the time. Then one day she heard the name Noah on TV and decided that it was perfect for him.

So there they were: Libby and Noah, Ivy and Darren, Bridget and Caleb. All with names, all with identities, and all with three barely competent parents.

All Cordelia knew was that it would take a miracle for the nine of them to last even just a month without any casualties.

And she knew from personal experience that miracles didn't exist.

.............................................................................................................................................................

Gidgetgirl: good call on the naming thing!

ReganX: that's a good idea, having them star in commercials. Thanks!


	5. ch 5

"You can't be serious."

All Cordelia could do was stare at the monstrosity Angel had brought home. Angel himself was very affronted at her lack of enthusiasm. "What?" He asked, crossing his arms defensively.

"Angel -- a minivan?"

"We need it, Cordy. It's too inconvenient to have to use two cars to take the babies anywhere."

Cordelia frowned. He did have a point. After having survived two and a half months with the sextuplets, the three of them had learned of all the inconveniences that came along with having six infants at once, transportation being just one of the many. Still, a minivan symbolized everything she was loath to admit about herself. It was the height of domesticity, and just about the lamest vehicle in existence.

"Can we even afford this?" As she asked, she knew the answer. She was the one who did the books (or tried to, at least), and she knew that half the time they were barely breaking even. Angel knew it too, and his chagrined look gave her some hope of returning the van.

"I liquidated some of my assets," He feebly explained under her glare. "And we can write it off as a business expense."

"How? You can't exactly kill a demon with a minivan."

Sighing in pure exasperation he said, "Look, it doesn't matter how we can afford it. It's ours now."

"Correction, it's _yours. _You couldn't pay me enough to get me behind the wheel of that thing. And what about Wesley? What does he think of it?"

"He sold his bike for it."

Cordelia gaped at that. Wesley, rogue demon hunter extraordinaire, had sold his precious motorcycle to buy a _minivan_? She couldn't help but wonder -- not for the first time -- what had come over the guys. They were both so wrapped up in the babies and being perfect little fathers that it was beginning to affect the way they handled business. Instead of researching demons and prophecies, Wesley was reading parenting books; instead of going out to kill the bad guy, Angel was staying home and drawing portraits of the babies. It was all she could do to manage the visions and cases and research by herself. She hadn't yet made the move to going out patrolling on her own, but she felt that things were moving in that direction.

"This is getting stupid," she muttered, looking up to meet Angel's penetrating stare. "Look, I don't care what you do about the van. Just don't expect me to drive it." With that, she turned on her discount-store heel and marched back into the office to find the phone ringing and Wesley deftly handling all six of the babies. "Cordelia, could you get that? My hands are a bit full at the moment."

Without saying a word, Cordelia picked up the receiver and started taking down the information, watching Wesley out of the corner of her eye. He had really become a pro at doing the Dad thing. He rarely got frustrated or impatient, and knew how to deal with all six at the same time. The worst part of it all was that he seemed to enjoy it. He never became bitter about the hefty responsibility, never got mad at her for not doing her share; he was perfect.

And she was sick to death of it.

"Would you just stop it?!" The words spilled out before she could stop them, not that she would have. Wesley, so startled by her outburst, dropped the bottles he was holding.

"What?"

"This!" She waved her self-manicured hand around the office that was littered with baby paraphernalia, and at Wesley himself, surrounded by all six of her kids. "Stop being so damn blind! You too, Angel," she said to the vampire who'd silently followed her in.

"Blind about what, Cordy?" Angel had been waiting for this moment for weeks. He'd seen the way she'd distanced herself from her children, how she was beginning to resent himself and Wesley because they weren't. She wanted her old life back, and the part Angel regretted the most was the fact that he couldn't give it to her. What he _could_ do was let her say her piece.

"Blind about the fact that these kids are taking over our lives! Yeah, I know, babies do that, right?" Both men got the feeling that the question was rhetorical and wisely kept silent. "Babies aren't supposed to bulldoze the rest of your life. Do you two realize how much this business has suffered since they got here?" Angel and Wesley shared a look, which Cordelia caught and pounced on.

"You really don't, do you? We've lost clients, we've lost money, we've actually had two people ask if this was a daycare. And we've let people die. That's right, Angel. Ever since you started spending all your time with the kids and stopped going out and doing your job, people have died. You too, Wesley. You're the brains of this operation, and I can't exactly read ancient apocalypse prophecies by myself."

One of her strongest points had been always being able to push the right buttons to hurt a person, and she was apparently still at the top of her game because both men looked like she'd just killed their puppies.

"You can't blame this on the children," Wesley retorted as soon as he recovered. "No," she replied. "I'm blaming this on you. I didn't want to bring them home in the first place."

"Are you saying you wish we'd never brought them back?" Angel asked quietly, still reeling at the fact that Cordy had so accurately pointed out. He'd let people die because he'd put his own desires before their lives. Then, for the first time in a long time, he truly looked at his Seer. She looked tired and old beyond her years. When he'd first met her, she'd literally seemed to shine. Now she seemed a little less bright and much harder around the edges. And her eyes, normally so alive, were uncertain.

Finally she sighed and seemed to almost collapse into herself. "I don't know. Maybe I am." Silence reigned for a moment before Cordelia abruptly went to her desk and collected her purse. Without a word she made her way to the door, only pausing a moment to glance over her shoulder.

"I need to think."

And then she was gone, and Wesley and Angel could only stare after her helplessly.

"Should we go after her?" Wesley asked, picking up Libby just for something to do. Angel shook his head and moved to follow his partner's example with Caleb. Holding the little boy in his arms brought Angel instant comfort. "Give her a couple of hours, she'll calm down."

"You're probably right."

........................................

Two days later she still hadn't returned, and Angel and Wesley were starting to get worried. They'd called every place they thought she could have gone, they'd talked to Dennis, they'd contacted every friend of Cordelia's that they knew of (not many), but had come up empty in the end.

They were also realizing how true Cordelia's stories were about running the business with six infants around. By mid-afternoon of the second day of her absence, both men were fast coming to the end of their ropes. Then, suddenly, through some great miracle, the kids were all being quiet in their playpen, and Wesley and Angel were using the time to catch up on anything that didn't involve the word 'baby'.

"Angel, have you seen my copy of the Corinthian Codex?" Wesley had searched high and low for the tome, but for the life of him couldn't find it. Pausing in his search, the ex-Watcher looked over at Angel, who was flipping through a file with a frown marring his features.

"No, I haven't. Cordy probably put it somewhere. I don't remember this case," he murmured. "Do you know about this? The Brownings?" He then proceeded to give Wesley the stats outlined in the file.

"Never heard of it. Cordelia must've set it up."

"It says here that the case is closed and they've been billed." That caused Wesley to look up in surprise. "But that would mean that Cordelia..."

"I can't believe she would do something like this! Doesn't she realize how dangerous it is for somebody like her to go into the field alone?"

Wesley raised a brow. "Somebody like her?"

"Inexperienced."

"You did say that the case was a simple haunting. It doesn't take a lot of experience to exorcise a ghost from a house. I think she was quite brave in taking on the responsibility by herself. Misguided, perhaps, but brave."

Angel nearly growled. He didn't care if a five-year-old could have done the job. The point was that not only had she neglected to tell them about it, but that she was apparently starting to shoulder much of the responsibility of running the business by herself. And it was all because he and Wesley couldn't figure out how to divide their time between work and family. Wes, obviously not feeling an ounce of guilt about the situation, had gone back to searching for his book, leaving Angel alone with his thoughts. It wasn't what he had expected, bringing those babies home. He'd expected Cordelia to fall in love with her children immediately, himself to take on a comparatively minor role in the child rearing department. He'd never been around babies in a nurturing role before, but they were just so cute and innocent that he'd been unable to resist. Not that Cordy had seemed to mind. In fact, she'd seemed to relish the fact that she was required to do very little where her children were concerned.

And thinking about it now, that was what concerned Angel the most.

Those babies needed an attentive, caring mother to raise them -- not just two guys with the emotional range of turnips pretending to know how to be fathers.

"Things need to change," he started abruptly, startling Wes. "We need to get Cordy back here and figure out a way to make things work better for all of us."

"Agreed," Wesley said, plucking a smelly-diapered Bridget out of the pen. "We need a-" He stopped short mid-sentence and paled at the sight of something behind Angel. Whirling, Angel caught sight of the most well-dressed demon he'd seen in quite awhile. Immediately moving to shield the babies, Angel readied himself for whatever might come.

"What do you want?"

The demon smiled -- sneered really -- and replied, "Why, the children of course."

"Over my dead body."

The demon smiled again and stripped off his suit jacket, handing the garment to a flunky that had materialized out of nowhere.

"That can be arranged."


	6. ch 6

"That can be arranged?" Angel grimaced at the line, preparing to do just about anything to stall. "Could you be any more lame?" Inwardly he cursed. He should have been expecting something like this -- he had a lot of enemies. Not this guy though, that he could remember. As far as he knew, he'd never before met the demon.

The demon didn't appear to be offended by Angel's comment and shrugged. "It seemed appropriate." And then he sprung. Angel caught him mid-air and used the momentum to throw the demon into the wall. He got to his feet unfazed and came at Angel again. In the background one of the kids started crying, causing Angel to fight twice as hard.

As they grappled, the lackey advanced on Wesley -- who was still holding Bridget. "Stay back," he warned, afraid to turn his back for even an instant to put Bridget down safely. The lackey didn't pause, as Wesley had predicted. Wes held the lackey's gaze steadily, even as there was a loud crash and groan from the other side of the room, giving him cause to look over.

What should I do?

He knew that he wasn't the greatest fighter in the world, but that didn't stop him anymore from rushing headlong into battle. This time Bridget did. "Look, man," the lackey said in a surprisingly mellow tone. "Just hand her over, alright? You don't need to get hurt here."

"What do you want with them?"

"I'm just doing my job."

"So someone hired you?" Any information he could get his hands on was gold as far as Wesley was concerned. When the lackey didn't reply, Wes took it as a yes. "Well I'm sorry, but I can't let that happen."

"Thought you might say that." The lackey was only a couple of feet away from Wesley now, and he could tell that if he didn't act quickly things were going to go badly. Angel and the demon were still battling fiercely, neither apparently winning. Wesley struggled to think of a way to take the lackey out of the running. Then Bridget shifted in his arms and he got an idea. In the blink of an eye, he ripped off her dirty diaper and smashed it into the lackey's face. Quickly putting Bridget down, he grabbed the heavy statue of a Tibetan war god off his desk and clocked the lackey on the head, sending the blue-skinned demon crashing to the floor.

Retrieving a bare-bottomed Bridget from his desk chair (which he now had to replace), he put her in the pen with the rest of her siblings -- a fresh diaper would have to wait -- and went to see if he could aid Angel in any way. Both men were bloody and starting to wear out, the match being even between them. Seeing an opening, Wesley hefted his statue and moved in. Just as he was about to bring the statue down on the demon's head, his prey swung out an arm, sending Wesley flying across the room. Temporarily stunned, he watched from his position on the floor as the demon gained the upper hand and brought a knife to Angel's throat.

Angel struggled against him, holding the knife at bay, but couldn't seem to get himself out of his assailant's grasp. Which meant it was up to Wesley to save him. He pushed himself to his feet, stopped for a moment as a wave of dizziness came over him. As the dizziness passed, he started to move forward when all of a sudden the demon went lax and fell forward onto Angel, a broadsword sticking out of it's back.

Wesley and Angel stared in awe at a furious Cordelia. She was still glaring at the dead demon.

"_Nobody _hurts my family."

..........................................

It figured that everything would go to Hell the instant she took some time off. Demons attacked (just as she'd predicted), the office was a mess of files and books and toys, and Bridget wasn't even wearing a diaper.

"I can't leave you two alone for two hours, let alone two days, can I?"

She barely got the question out before both her guys rushed her and pulled her into hugs. Their voices were jumbled together in a rush of apologies and thank-yous. "It's about time I got some appreciation around here," she grumbled. "Now will somebody please tell me why Bridget isn't wearing a diaper?" Adjusting his glasses, Wesley pointed to the still unconscious lackey. "Because of that."

Cordelia wrinkled her nose, and even Angel looked a little grossed out. "Is he dead?" She asked as she went over to the play pen to get Bridget a new diaper. "No, I just knocked him out. He actually seemed like a nice fellow." The remark was met with looks of extreme skepticism. Wesley shrugged. "He actually asked me to give him Bridget and nobody had to be hurt. Said he was just doing his job."

Angel frowned at the subject of their discussion. "Think somebody hired them?"

"Him, at least," Wesley replied with a shrug. "I suggest we tie him up -- I don't think he'll be too pleased with me after what I did."

"I'd skin you alive if you did it to me," Cordelia observed as she finished up with Bridget and rested the infant on her hip. Wesley cleared his throat uncomfortably, well aware that she wasn't exaggerating in the least. "Well, what are you waiting for? Break out those chains!"

The guys did just that, careful not to get too close to the blue demon's diaper-smeared face as Cordelia watched and Bridget caught a strand of long dark hair in her tiny fist. Cordelia didn't notice at first, but she certainly did when her daughter yanked with surprising strength.

"Ow!" She untangled hair from fist and gave a disapproving look. "No pulling Mommy's hair."

"Mommy?" Angel had finished chaining up the lackey and was studying her with a look that Cordelia couldn't decipher. She rolled her eyes. "Not a big deal, Angel. I told you I had some thinking to do."

"And you made up your mind?"

"Duh. You really think I'd be here if I didn't want to be?" Her tone indicated that the subject was closed, and thankfully Angel didn't push. She really didn't feel like explaining her motives at the moment, if ever.

"He's coming around."

Cordelia put Bridget in the pen and joined Wes and Angel around the shackled demon. As his eyelids fluttered and he groaned, Cordelia realized how non-demony he looked. True, he had dark blue skin and shockingly white hair, but other than his colouring, he had human features. Not that that mattered -- most of the monsters in the world were completely human anyway. She watched as he shifted in the chair and felt the manacles around his ankles and wrists. His eyes flew open -- another shade of blue, she noticed -- and narrowed as he strained against the chains.

"What the hell-"

"We'll be doing the asking," Angel tersely interrupted. "Who sent you?" There was no reply, only a stare that could have frozen the sun. "I'm not in the habit of playing games, so I suggest you cooperate." Cordy watched intently to see how Blue reacted to Angel's scary voice. It had been known to shake greater foes than a lackey like this guy.

Nothing. Blue didn't look the least bit impressed by Angel's threat, and Cordelia could tell that things had the potential to get very messy. That was something she didn't want to watch or subject the kids to, so as her boss moved in the directions of the weapons chest, she decided to take the floor.

"Let's get one thing straight. We _will _get everything we want from you, no matter how long it takes. Your boss got off easy, because nobody threatens my kids and gets away with it."

Blue's eyebrows raised in apparent surprise. "They're yours? I find it hard to believe that you've had six children." He said it as he looked her up and down, and even though she knew it was a trick to off-balance her, she couldn't help but appreciate the compliment. "Well believe it," she snapped, angry that he'd gotten to her. "Angel here," she motioned to the surly vampire. "Is a master at.... extracting information. What's the longest you've ever kept someone alive again?" She didn't say the word, but torture was implied and they all knew it. She was, however, the only one who knew how uncomfortable her question had made Angel, aside from the vampire himself. He played along though. "Four weeks. But that's only because I got bored."

She could see a hint of regret in his eyes and knew that it was because he'd revealed a piece of his sordid past. She sent him a reassuring smile before turning back to Blue. "Four weeks. That's an awfully long time, don't you think? It's certainly time that we don't have to spare, so having to keep you around is just going be annoying-"

"Do you always talk this much?"

Cordelia's jaw dropped. Here she was, threatening weeks of torture, and he goes and insults her? "_Excuse _me? Do you see that over there?" She motioned wildly to the dead demon across the room. "Yeah, I did that."

"So you're going to put a sword in my back too? I thought you wanted information."

"I do, dammit! That's what will happen to you if I don't get it."

"What happened to the torture part?"

"You'll get that too!"

"If I don't give you the information."

"Yes! So spill!

"Spill what?"

Cordelia growled. Literally. She growled at the innocent look on the smug bastard's face and had to physically restrain herself from smacking that smirk off his blue lips. Whirling around, she addressed her boss. "Angel- are you laughing?" Her eyes narrowed dangerously. He was actually laughing at her. He tried to hide it of course, but he couldn't quite mask his shaking shoulders or curving lips. "I can't believe this. How 'bout you, Wes? You think this is funny too?"

She turned her blazing gaze on Wesley and watched his smile shrink into nothing. He eyed both her and Blue with major apprehension, and Cordelia figured he was still wondering what would happen with the whole diaper thing. _Good, _She thought with some satisfaction. _He should be nervous._

"Fine," she muttered and turned her back on all three men. "All I wanted to do was find out who's after my kids so we can stop them. That's all. Not like I'm asking for their heads on a silver platter or anything...."

Bending over the play pen, she reached in and grabbed Noah. The boy looked up at her with his wide green eyes -- the only thing so far that all six of them had inherited from their sperm donor father -- and she smiled briefly back at him before holding him out to Blue. "This is the reason we've got you chained up. His name's Noah. I bet you didn't think about that when you came to steal him, did you? Or Libby or Bridget or Darren, Ivy, and Caleb? What about them? What would have happened to them once you turned them over, hmm? You can tell me that much, can't you?"

Innumerable emotions flashed through his silver-blue eyes, too quick to catch and decipher. But the fact was that he was going through some kind of inner turmoil, which meant that she had a small window of opportunity.

"I just need to know what kind of sick bastard would want to kidnap six infants."

When he closed his eyes with a sigh, Cordelia knew she'd won.

"Look, I don't know much. My policy's usually don't ask, don't tell, and that's how it was this time."

"Your policy?" Wesley asked curiously.

Blue shrugged and chose his words carefully. "I'm independently employed. You could say I'm a security expert-"

"So you're like a hired thug?"

The response to Cordelia's barb was a tight-lipped smile. "Cute. I'm a security expert, but if an employer requests something extra, then I'm more than willing to provide the service for the right price." It was apparently all about money, which Cordelia could relate to. "And that guy obviously had the money to pay well," she commented.

"What do you mean by obviously?" It was Angel asking this time, to which Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Please, look at what he's wearing. Armani, he's got a Rolex.... need I go on, or can we let Blue here get back to the story?"

"I have a name, you know."

"You haven't told it to me yet, genius."

"Don't insult the demon, Cordelia," Wesley hissed under his breath. Blue heard it and smirked. "Your little friend's got a point, Cordelia. Not a good idea to get the big bad demon mad -- especially with a kid in your arms."

Passing Noah off to Wesley, she fisted her hands on her hips. "There, no more baby. Now I can insult you with an easy conscience." Angel and Wesley watched as the two engaged in a glaring match for a very long minute, both shaking their heads at Cordy's lack of control where her temper was concerned. Neither were surprised about it though. What _did _surprise them was Blue letting out a short burst of laughter.

"I like you, Cordelia. I'll tell you what I know."

Instead of feeling gratified that she'd won, Cordy only felt frustrated and angry. "Fine" she ground out. "Get on with it."

"It's not much-"

"Big surprise."

"-But I did overhear Mr Mantuzzo call his contact by name just before we pulled this job. Guy's name was Manners. That's all I can tell you." If she hadn't been so mad at Blue and the name he'd just delivered, Cordelia might have been a little freaked out by the look clouding Angel's features.

Wesley expelled the breath he was holding. "We should have guessed it would be them. Do you know anything else? Anything at all?" Blue shook his head, actually managing to look regretful. "What about your employer?" Wes pressed on. "What do you know about him?"

Blue looked over at the dead Mr Mantuzzo. "Not much. I've worked for him a couple of times, but only on one- or two-day jobs. He was rich and I don't ask questions."

"But you have to know something. A guy in your line of work hears things." Angel was still livid, if his eyes were any indication.

"True. The guy had a lot of connections, the kind that most people in his line of work would kill for. Have killed for."

"Like you." For reasons beyond her, Cordelia could not get over her initial dislike for the guy. He only made it worse by being honest. "Yes and no. I don't do what I do for connections, but by doing what I do, I make them. So have you got all you need from me? I really need to take a shower." The remark was directed at Wesley, who blushed and offered a fumbled apology.

Angel crossed his arms over his chest. "One more thing - I'm going to need reinforcement tonight. You available?"

Cordelia wasn't sure who was more surprised by the request, herself or Blue. In either case, he recovered much quicker than her. "I am now."

"Good. Wes, unchain him. You can use the shower downstairs." Blue stood once the manacles were off, rubbed his wrists. "Thanks. I'm Marek, by the way. What's the plan of action?"

Angel took a long look at the playpen full of his children before answering. "I'll let you know on the way."

"Fair enough. Where are we going?"

"To pay a visit to the scum of the earth."

Marek nodded like he knew exactly whom Angel was referring to. "Lawyers?" Which apparently he did. Cordelia was still stunned speechless at the new development and could only stare as her best friend bantered with the very person who'd tried to kidnap their kids not an hour before. Finally she couldn't take it anymore and found her voice.

"Are you out of your _mind_? You can't just hire this guy! He's a kidnapper!"

"Actually, I'm a freelance security expert," Marek corrected dryly.

"I don't care if you're freaking Santa Claus! Angel, come on! Wes?"

Wesley raised his hands in surrender. He could see Cordelia's point, but he also found himself liking the man. "Uh.... It's time to feed the babies. Why don't you two discuss it?"

Cordelia huffed. "Fine, take the coward's way out! Angel, how can you even consider this?"

"Because Holland needs to pay, and I'm going to need backup to get to him." Cordelia opened her mouth to argue, then abruptly changed her mind on what she was going to say and whirled to address Wesley. "Wes, why don't you show him where the shower is. I need to talk to Angel."

Wesley looked ready to argue, but decided it was in his best interest to let his coworkers fight it out. "Very well. Mr Marek, if you'll just follow me.... and again, I'm very sorry about that." Marek shrugged, infuriatingly accommodating in Cordelia's opinion, and replied, "Forget about it. I get that you were just protecting those kids. And it's just Marek, no Mister."

He went on to say more, but by that point Cordelia had tuned him out and turned her attention back to Angel. "What the hell is going through your head? You can't hire him! He just tried to kidnap your children! How can you not be tearing his head off right now?"

"Look Cordy, I get where you're coming from. Trust me. But this guy's not the one who we should be after. He was just doing what he was hired for. We need to go after the person who did the hiring."

She crossed her arms defensively. "How do you even know he was telling the truth about that?"

"What reason would he have to lie?"

"I can think of about ten," she shot back immediately. "What makes you think you can trust this guy, Angel?"

"Nothing. I don't trust him, Cordy. Not yet. But he's got connections, remember? Besides, how long did it take for you to trust _me_?"

"Fine, you made your point. But if he so much as sneezes on the kids...."

"Fair enough. Let's just see where this leads, okay? He could be good for AI, you never know."

"What do you mean? You're planning on keeping this guy around?"

Angel shrugged and busied himself at the weapons cabinet. "Who knows?"

"I do. I know his type. He's the kind of person who's only out for number one. Once he's through with your little job, he'll be out of here." Her prediction was met with a raised brow and nothing more. "Plus," she added in her own defence. "He said he was freelance."

"Never judge a book by the cover, Cordelia. You of all people should know that."

She didn't know whether or not to be offended by the remark and her indecision silenced her. Then, in that instant, a realization unfolded in her mind. Marek struck her as someone who'd seen a lot of bad things, despite his laid back attitude. He was probably the cause of most of them, if he evasive job description was any indication. Finally she fixed her boss with a hard look. "I just hope you're not letting your desire for someone to relate to cloud your judgement with this guy."

"Believe me, it's not," he replied sharply, his features unreadable. "I wouldn't do anything to jeopardize the safety of the kids."

Cordelia sighed. "It's not just about them, Angel. I don't want you getting hurt either. The babies need you, this city needs you, and I need you. I hope you'll remember that before you let our lives become an open book for this guy."

"You can trust me, Cordy. You have my word on that."

"I know, Angel, but it's not you I'm worried about."

....................................................................................................................................................................

A/N: This chapter kind of ran away on me, and I'm not sure how I feel about it. For those of you wondering when the kids will start taking center stage, it's coming. Hopefully within the next couple of chapters. Also, Marek was supposed to be a minor plot device, but I really started to like him, so I'd like your opinion on him.

I'm a little fuzzy on the timeline of S1, so if Holland seems out of place, pretend he's not.


	7. ch 7

A/N: This chapter's definitely not my favourite, but probably because I just wanted to get through the infant stage of the story. So the next chapter will pick up a couple years down the road.

This chapter ends when Cordelia gets touched by the Vocah (?) demon and gets her endless visions, so that still happens. Connor, and pretty much everything encompassed in his story (Jasmine, Holtz etc.) didn't happen, though Fred, Gunn, and Lorne will probably still join the team the same way they did on the show. Have any questions about what might or might not have happened, just ask!

And thanks to all my reviewers! You're what I write for!

...................................................................................................................................................................

"...So it's how big? Wow. Uh huh -- no, that's right up our alley. Don't worry about a thing, Mrs Seymour, we'll be there right away. Just keep the basement locked and take the kids out for ice cream or something; it could get messy. That's right.... okay, see you soon. Bye."

Cordelia hung up the phone very carefully before letting out a squeal of pure joy. "Angel! Get out here!" Angel and Wesley were both closed up in the office poring over the scroll that had been recently liberated from the Wolfram and Hart vault, and it took two more tries on her part to drag their attention away from it.

"I just got off the phone with Beverly Seymour," she paused to let the name sink in but wasn't really surprised when all she got was two blank looks. "She's the producer for.... you know what? Never mind. She's got a demon squatting in her basement."

That got the guys moving. "Do we know what kind?" Angel was all business and Wesley listened intently. Consulting her notepad, Cordelia shook her head. "None that I recognize from the description, but she said she didn't stay down there long enough to get a good look. Luckily I've prepared for this type of situation."

"You have?" Wesley asked dubiously. Nodding, Cordelia produced a canvas duffel bag from beneath the weapons cabinet. "It has a little bit of everything: two swords, a couple of smaller knives, stakes, heavy-duty garbage bags, and several base ingredients that are used in exorcisms and demon evictions; stuff like that."

"When did you do this?" Angel asked, a little impressed by her ingenuity. She shrugged. "Few months ago. Now let's get moving, people!" Slinging the bag over her shoulder, she started for the door, only to be stopped by her boss. "Uh, Cordy, what about the kids?"

__

Right. The kids. Since they were all napping in the basement, she'd put them out of her mind the second Beverly Seymour had called. Refusing to admit that they'd briefly slipped her mind, she shrugged. "Wesley can stay with them." She held up a hand the instant they moved to argue. "I am going whether you two like it or not. I'm not passing up a chance to meet Beverly Seymour, so you guys can work it out amongst yourselves if you have a problem. And before you tell me that there'll be fighting involved, Angel, remember that Wesley's hardly better than me in a fight."

"And what if there's need for a spell?" Wesley retorted, his pride a little wounded by the fact that he knew she was right.

"Then we'll call."

"I don't think-"

"If it's that big a problem, I can watch the kids."

At the sound of the unexpected voice, both Cordelia and Wesley jumped. "Where the hell did you come from?" Cordelia demanded of Marek as her heart slowly resumed a more natural speed. He was leaning casually against the table that held the coffee, a cup in his hand. He sent her an easy grin. "Rhode Island, originally. I was in the neighbourhood today." He took a drink, grimaced, and put the cup down. "That's terrible." Ignoring the comment completely, she narrowed her eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"Like I said, I was in the neighbourhood."

"Uh huh. Well, I'm not leaving you in charge of my kids. Especially not after that vanishing act you pulled last time you were here."

Just as Cordelia had known he would, Marek had disappeared right after he'd helped Angel with the whole Holland Manners thing. They hadn't killed him, but the guy had looked pretty worse for wear when Cordy had spotted him by chance a couple of days later. That had been several weeks ago now, and they'd seen neither hide nor hair of Marek since. Until today.

"I had business to take care of," he explained. "But I've got nothing on my plate at the moment."

"No."

"Come on, Cordy." Said Angel impatiently. "We may need Wes, and we should really get going."

"No way."

"Fine. Then you can stay here with them."

Knowing she'd lost, Cordelia turned to Marek with a glare and a warning. "If so much as a hair on their heads is out of place I'll hunt you down and make you wish you'd never met me, got it?"

His eyes danced with amusement. "Got it. But what if a hair gets out of place by some other means than me?"

"I'll know. We've got the NannyCam."

"Doesn't it defeat the purpose by telling me about it?"

"No," she snapped. "It damn well better put you on your best behaviour."

He gamely raised a hand. "Scout's honour. Now you'd better get moving if you actually want to go."

Blinking, Cordy realized that sometime during her rant, the guys had gone out to the car. Without a word, she stormed out the door, the overgrown Smurf laughing in her wake.

............................

Three hours later she was tired, sore, and covered in demon blood, but she was glowing with happiness. Not even the sight of Marek sitting at _her _desk with his feet propped up, flipping through her latest issue of _Vogue_ could bring down her mood. She noticed the babies rolling around in their playpen in the corner and went over to inspect them while the guys flipped a coin for the first shower.

"They're fine," Marek said, not looking up from his magazine. "They were angels, all of them." Cordelia peered in at the six of them, and all six looked back at her innocent as can be. She snorted, not believing a word. There were a lot of ways to describe her kids, but _angel_ was not one of them. When it suited them, they could be holy terrors. "Uh huh," she replied, her tone dry. Finally he put the magazine down and looked her over. "As you can see, there's not a hair out of place." There wasn't. In fact, it looked like what little hair they did have had been carefully combed. "And if you want them to stay neat," he advised. "I wouldn't get near them covered in _that._"

"I can get near them covered in anything I want -- they're mine, remember?" She was feeling really gross, but was tempted to stay covered in the blood just to spite him. Not tempted enough, though, so she brushed past Angel (he'd won the coin toss) on the way to the elevator. "Ladies first." Pausing at the elevator door, she shot Marek a dazzling smile. "Not even you can spoil my mood tonight, by the way. So don't even bother to try."

When she disappeared from sight, Marek turned to Angel. "That sounded like a challenge."

"With Cordy everything's a challenge. So how were they really?" He asked, referring to the kids. Marek grimaced, the look saying everything he couldn't quite put into words. Angel smirked proudly. "That's what I thought. Thanks for babysitting, though."

"I wasn't babysitting," Marek hastily corrected. "I was watching the office. Which reminds me, you got a couple of calls. Messages are on Cordelia's desk."

"Thanks. So what're you really doing here?"

Marek shrugged. "Like I said, I was in the area, thought I'd drop in for a visit."

Angel frowned, suspicious of the explanation, but didn't push it. In his experience, the best way to learn someone's motives was to spend time with them. "Well it's a good thing you're here; we may need your help again." Angel's own motives were a little double-edged. Until Cordy or Wes, or both, grossly improved their fighting ability, he seriously needed some skilled backup. Smiling slightly, Marek nodded. "No problem. Working with you guys is nothing short of entertaining."

Before Angel could question the comment, Marek strolled over to the playpen once more and just watched a minute the writhing, rolling, and occasionally shrieking bunch of babies. "They're very.... lively. How do you do it on a daily basis?"

Shrugging, Angel joined his new blue friend. "By barely managing. It's a bit easier because there's three of us, and Cordelia's roommate helps out a _lot, _but half the time we can barely get through the day in one piece."

"But you wouldn't trade it for anything, would you?"

"No."

"I don't know if I'd ever be able to say that without the serious threat of death looming."

"Up until Cordy went into labour I never thought I'd even get the chance to say it."

"So.... the father not in the picture?"

Angel didn't glance up at the question; instead he held his gaze on the babies. "One of Cordelia's conditions was that Wes and I both take full responsibility as fathers." Marek noted instantly the way Angel had avoided answering the question and the fact that he'd said _condition_. Instead of asking about it, Marek filed the information away in his mind for later dissection.

"They must take after their mother in the looks department," he observed lightly, honestly. The babies were all adorable with their dark brown hair and moss green eyes and perfect little baby features. They were looks that promised the babies would become beauties as they got older. "They do," Angel replied, pride evident in his tone. "They get the eyes from the biological father, though."

There was an abundance of contempt at the mention of dear old dad, Marek noticed. It was probably a sore spot for Angel, who loved the kids so much.

"I don't blame you," Cordelia's voice rang out as she stepped out of the elevator in a pair of jeans and a plain t-shirt, her hair still damp. Both Angel and Marek looked at her in silent question, though for different reasons. Marek hadn't known Cordelia Chase long, but he didn't have to know her well to be surprised to see her looking so casual. And young, he noted a little uncomfortably. He'd made a few quiet inquiries and learned the basic facts of the AI gang, including Cordelia's age. Somehow she had never seemed nineteen, until now.

Angel, on his part, remained unaware of Marek's internal debate and asked Cordelia what she'd meant. She smiled sweetly. "Hanging around him's bound to put anyone in a bad mood."

Instead of being offended, Marek grinned. Angel just rolled his eyes. "Right. Well I'm going in the shower. Try not kill him, Cordy." This time it was the Seer who rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Good luck with that shower, by the way. Wes is in there already."

Once the grumbling vampire disappeared from sight, Cordelia helped herself to coffee, surprised to find it drinkable. "Not a word," she ordered at Marek's look. He complied with a smile, which Cordelia studiously ignored. In fact, she made it a point to ignore him while she contacted the people who'd left a message and as she busied herself with the stack of files lying on her desk.

"So what had you in such a good mood when you came in?" Marek asked, quickly growing bored with the silence. Expecting a frosty glare and a snarky comment, he was surprised when she grinned broadly. "I got an audition for a pilot Beverly Seymour's developing! She was so grateful to us for dealing with her demon problem that she invited me to audition when she found out I was an actress."

__

Ah. That's why she was so adamant about going along. He was genuinely impressed with her for going after what she wanted and actually getting it; not many people were capable of that anymore. "Well good luck," he said honestly. "Or break a leg, whatever."

"Thanks," she said reluctantly, eyeing him suspiciously. "What are you?" She demanded, out of the blue (no pun intended), not bothering to amend her question despite the fact that she knew it was tactless. He got the feeling that this woman didn't waste her time with pleasantries. He liked that, and decided to give her a straight answer.

"Half human, half Mutat Demon."

"Mutant Demon?"

Beating back his frustration and uncertainty over whether she was just baiting him, he replied, "Mu_tat_. Close enough, though," he added lowly. "It comes from the Latin word for change."

"Oh. So can you?"

"Change? In a manner of speaking." He was reluctant to give any more information on his ability, lest it somehow reach the ears of the very wrong people. Cordelia, however, proved very insistent. "What do you mean, in a manner of speaking?"

"Everybody can change in different ways. Let's leave it at that." Luckily for him, one of the babies started to cry so Cordelia had to abandon her interrogation for the moment. Anxious to see her in Mommy-mode, Marek sat back and watched as she carried Darren (he thought) over to the makeshift change table to replace his diaper. She was quick and efficient, and performed the task with little emotion. No tickling or baby talk from her -- from what little he'd seen, that was Angel's and Wesley's department. It was an interesting role-reversal in his opinion.

"What are you doing?" He asked suddenly as she abruptly handed him the freshly changed baby. She was already at the mini fridge, pulling out two bottles. "Time for dinner," she explained as she popped the bottles in the microwave. Adjusting the squirming boy in one arm, Marek glanced at his watch. "Eight-thirty. Shouldn't they be in bed by now?"

"Probably," she said carelessly and fetched a boy identical to the one he held from the pen. Noah, he guessed. "But we keep them on our schedule. It's easier that way." She handed him the warm bottle and he plugged it into Darren's waiting mouth. Cordy did the same with hers, but Marek noted a difference in her. She seemed softer with this one, happier and more loving. Not much, but enough for him to see the difference. "He's your favourite." It wasn't a question, and Cordelia didn't take it as one.

"Maybe. He was the first one I ever held, so I guess we have the strongest bond."

"You don't have any qualms about playing favourites?"

Her response was a shrug, nothing more. It was obvious that Cordelia didn't want to talk anymore, so they lapped into a semi-comfortable silence, staying that way until Wesley emerged from the elevator. "Who's not been fed?" He asked immediately.

"Libby and Bridget. And I'm going to need you guys to take them overnight until my audition on Thursday."

"That's three days away!"

"Your point?"

"Three days _is _my point."

"Yeah, well somebody needs to start bringing in a second income if we want to put all six of them through college."

Wesley looked stricken at the thought. "Three days isn't that long. We shouldn't have a problem."

Cordelia smiled, satisfied. "That's what I thought."

....................................

"I take it your audition went well?" A blind man could have seen how happy she was, and Wesley was no exception.

"It was fabulous!"

"You got the part?" He couldn't help but be excited for her. He knew how long and hard she'd worked for an opportunity like this one to come her way, so when she shook her head, he frowned in confusion.

"I got a call back," she explained at his look. "But that's not the best part!" Dropping her purse, she practically skipped over to the playpen to scoop up the nearest baby. "You're going to by Mommy's little stars! Yes you are!" Wesley had never seen her talk to the babies like that, so he could only stare as she planted a smacking kiss on Ivy's cheek and adjusted the baby on her hip. "I was talking to some of the other girls there and the subject of the kids came up. Did you know that multiples are in huge demand? I mean, I kind of knew, but I was more focussed on my career.... Anyway, it's perfect! Commercials, TV, movies.... they're going to be everywhere! Where's Angel? I have to tell him about this."

"Ah.... he's out on a job with Marek."

The mention of Marek couldn't even bring her mood down, though it did spark her memory. "Hey Wes, what's a Mutat demon? Like do they have any special powers or anything?"

"If memory serves, Mutat demons have the ability to blend into any type of surroundings."

"Like a chameleon?"

Wesley regarded her quizzically, a little surprised in her sudden interest. "Yes, exactly. Why do you ask?"

"Just curious. That's what Marek is. Half, anyway." She stopped then to study him closely, though he had no idea why and looked down at his shirt to make sure he hadn't spilled any of his breakfast. "What is it?" He demanded after a moment.

"You look totally wiped," she observed. "Here, help me load the kids up. I'll take them for the day. You can relax, catch up on some work, whatever."

"Are you sure?" He asked, surprised by her sudden show of generosity. "Because that would be wonderful..."

"Yeah, yeah. Just give me a hand, would you?" He complied immediately, grateful for even an afternoon to himself. Not willing to upset Cordelia's generous mood, he didn't even remark on the fact that she was driving the van.

"Just so you know, there's this flea market at the park near my place that I want to go to, so I'll be leaving them with Dennis for about an hour." Dennis was probably the best babysitter they could have asked for, so Wesley didn't argue. "Alright, I'll keep my cell phone on just in case."

She turned the ignition. "Good."

"Cordelia -- thanks. And enjoy your flea market."

As she started to pull away from the curb, she grinned. "Things are totally going my way, today, Wes! Life's starting to not suck!"

Wesley chuckled. "Goodbye, Cordelia."


	8. ch 8

Four years later...

"Okay, monsters, let's get a look at you." Cordelia fisted her hands on her hips, regarding her bunch like a Sergeant preparing his troops for battle. Obediently the six four-year-olds lined up, ready for inspection. It was their first day of kindergarten and they wanted to look their best. Moving down the line, Cordy studied each of them closely and bit back a smile at every turn, trying to maintain her serious facade in the name of the game.

They all looked adorable in their brand new outfits with their little backpacks that she'd let each pick out. Along the way she straightened Caleb's top, tied Libby's shoe, and tucked a few loose strands back into Ivy's ponytail.

"There," she said, satisfied. "Perfect. Now come give Mommy a hug."

All six rushed her at once, literally knocking her over. Laughing, she got back to her feet. "Okay, guys. Go say bye to everyone!" She watched as the six were enveloped in hugs from Angel, Gunn, Fred, and Lorne, all of which looked a little teary. Wesley stood at her side, checking his watch (though she figured he didn't want anyone to see him get all emotional). "We should get going," he informed her quietly.

"I know, but they're just so cute," she said, not referring to the kids. Angel had Bridget wrapped in a bear hug while Gunn was bent on one knee in front of the inseparable Darren and Ivy, giving them playground advice. Fred was slipping a calculator into Libby's bag and Lorne was trying to dislodge Caleb from his leg. Noah, who'd finished his round of goodbyes, grabbed onto Cordelia's hand and pulled.

"C'mon Mommy."

Looking into her boy's big green eyes, so alight with anticipation and excitement, Cordelia felt her tight control over her emotions slip. Clearing her throat as a mixture of joy and sorrow bubbled up, she started to round up the troops.

"Okay, guys, time to go. And Fred, they are not going to need calculators in kindergarten."

"Never hurts to be prepared." Fred said, blushing lightly. "Bye guys! Good luck!" A chorus of goodbyes echoed through the Hyperion's lobby as Cordelia and Wesley ushered the kids out to the van. Along the way she broke up a wrestling match between Caleb and Darren and fielded half a dozen questions about school from Ivy. Once the kids were buckled in their seats and they were on the road, their excitement and nervousness only amplified the din.

Finally Cordy had had enough and spun around in her seat. "Enough! We're going to play a game. Whoever stays quiet the longest-"

"That's not a game!" Libby interrupted immediately. Cordelia bit back a tiny, imperceptible sigh. Libby had no problem staying quiet -- was, in fact, one of the quietest of the six -- but had a gift for seeing right through bullshit. And she had a love for pointing it out. Luckily the other kids either didn't care enough to question it or didn't have long enough attention spans to dwell on it.

"It is now. Whoever stays quiet the longest gets a...... a surprise in their lunch tomorrow!"

It was lame. She knew it, Wesley knew it, and it kind of looked like Libby knew it too, but the little girl still sat back in her seat quietly, along with the rest of her siblings. Silence reigned in the car for a blessed thirty-five seconds before they started to grow bored with the game. Darren and Caleb went back to their fight and started hitting each other; Ivy started singing along with the radio, pretending she knew the words, and Bridget played with her pink Princess backpack.

"Wes, is it normal for me to be feeling really excited about their starting school?"

"Of course it is. Your children are starting a new chapter in their lives, and-"

"That's not what I meant. For the first time in four years, we're not going to have any kids around for _hours_."

"My parents sent my sister and I to boarding school so they wouldn't have kids around for months. I don't think you have anything to feel guilty about."

"Good. I mean about the guilt, not the boarding school thing."

His response was muffled by the escalating voices of Bridget and Libby, who were arguing over their bags, but she did see him smile, so all was good on that front. As for the girls, their argument was quickly morphing into a rousing round of 'is not, is too', in relation to whether or not Bridget's bag was better. Listening to their reasoning for a minute, Cordelia marvelled at how different the two were. Bridget maintained that princesses were way cooler than stupid flowers, adding weight to her argument by pointing out that she was 'daddy's little princess' (which was true, because she had Angel wrapped around her tiny finger), while Libby didn't so much defend her choice in backpack design as go straight for the jugular by attacking her sister's flimsy reasoning.

"Are not! He only says that so you won't start crying!"

It took a lot to get Libby riled, but when she was she could get nasty -- even for a four-year-old. When Bridget's eyes got huge and her lip started to quiver, Cordelia decided to step in. "Girls, enough. Both your bags are pretty and all you girls are Angel's princesses."

"I'm not a princess!" Piped up Ivy from the back. She meant it too. Ivy's unique spirit hadn't abandoned her out of infancy -- if anything, it'd grown stronger. She refused to be shackled with 'princess' as a term of endearment, was obsessed with Spiderman, and routinely tried to find new ways to fly. Of all her siblings, Ivy was the one who set Cordy's nerves on edge the most out of fear for her daughter's safety, but that was just another thing that she loved about her.

"Sorry, kiddo, I forgot," she replied seriously. "Look! There it is!" She pointed out the window as the school came into view. The kids all stopped what they were doing to stare at the building that would become their second home for the next few years. They saw all the other little kids their age running around and for the first time realized the possibility of playmates other than their siblings.

Wesley parked the van at the curb and helped Cordelia unload everyone. Half of them knew how to unhook their seats and were out of the car before they'd barely gotten the door open all the way. While Wes contended with a nervous Caleb, Cordy got Noah out of his seat. He'd waited patiently for her to get to him and quietly collected his backpack when she did. It wasn't until they were walking over to the group of parents and his new classmates that he spoke.

"I won, Mommy."

"What?" Even as she said it, she remembered about her little game to keep them quiet. Then she realized that Noah hadn't uttered a peep the entire ride, and she grinned. When he focussed on something it was nearly impossible to get him away from it. "You're right, buddy. You did win."

"So I get the special lunch tomorrow?"

"You bet. Now why don't you go play with some of the other kids while Mommy and Daddy talk to the other parents, okay?"

Noah surveyed the playground and saw that his siblings, for the most part, were already making new friends. Looking around, he saw a girl and a boy standing alone by the fence. "How come they're by themselves?" He asked, pointing to the pair when his mother asked. "They're probably a little bit nervous about starting school. Why don't you go over and say hi?"

Taking his mother's words as sacrosanct, Noah calmly headed over to the pair. Cordelia watched as her boy fearlessly approached the duo and within a minute had them joining him on the playground.

"Is that your son?" At the voice, Cordy turned and was met with a pretty Asian woman who looked about four or five years her senior. Smiling, she nodded. "Yep."

"He's adorable. I'm Sheila, by the way."

Cordelia introduced herself. "Which one's yours?"

Sheila pointed out her daughter, April, and sighed. "It's gonna be hard to let her go, but great at the same time, you know?" Cordelia grinned. "Do I ever. I love mine to death, but it'll be nice to have a little me time again."

Just as Sheila was about to question her, Wesley walked up with a tear-stained Caleb. Cordelia tilted her head in her son's direction. "Everything okay?"

Wes nodded. "Yep. We had a little man-to-man chat; everything's fine now." When he looked pointedly at a slightly surprised Sheila, Cordelia took the hint. "Sheila, this is Wesley. And Caleb." Shaking Wes' hand, she said, "Twins, huh? Must be a handful."

Sharing a look with her partner, Cordy smiled ruefully. "Actually, there's-" She was cut off by Wesley, who'd been scanning the playground for the others and caught sight of something he didn't like. "Ivy!" He yelled. "Get down from there!" Following his gaze, the women saw that Ivy had started scaling the fence and was either ignoring her father or hadn't heard him. Excusing himself, Wes went to rescue his daughter before she injured herself.

Rolling her eyes at her adventurous daughter's antics, Cordelia finished her sentence. "Six."

"Wow. That's- wow. I think on behalf of mothers everywhere I should buy you a cup of coffee," Sheila laughed, as did Cordy. "Oh, I take my coffee intravenously. But that'd be nice." Checking her watch, she saw that it was time to take the kids in and, along with the rest of the parents, collected the kids and led them into the school.

As luck would have it, there were three kindergarten classes, so she and the guys had worked it out with the administration to split the kids up, and to do it the way they thought was best. Since they wanted the kids to socialize with their classmates, they'd thought it best to divide them up in a way so they wouldn't be as apt to stick to each other.

In the end it had worked out to Ivy and Noah in one, Bridget and Darren in another, and Libby and Caleb in the last. The only ones who really cared were Ivy and Darren -- they'd been inseparable since they could walk. But the entire family had figured that the pair would get over it once they started making friends.

Seeing them off to their respective classrooms, Cordelia and Wesley both hoped for the best and wished their kids luck, and then, for the first time in years, returned to the van alone. The ride back to the Hyperion was silent, which in itself was strange.

"So, what do you want to do today?" Wesley asked eventually. Cordelia leaned her head back against the seat, eyes closed. "You mean it's not over yet?" The whole ordeal had seemed like an eternity to her.

"No, it's just beginning."

"In that case, I want to go shopping. And take a reeeally long bath. And -- dammit."

"What is it?"

She reached for her cell phone and hit the first number on her speed dial. "Vision. Looks like we're working today. Fred, it's me...."

As Cordy explained her vision to Fred, Wes smiled, just a little. He'd seen those children through scraped knees and chicken pox, first words and first bicycles. Now he'd managed to get them through their first day of school, and for the first time didn't know how he should feel. He knew how Cordelia felt, and he knew that Angel would be a wreck for probably the first week, but he didn't know how he was supposed to feel.

Happy? Lonely?

The children had been his entire life for so long that he barely remembered how to live without them constantly around. That was probably the hardest part, letting reality back in.

"Hey, grandma, can we move a little faster? That guy on rollerblades is going faster than us."

Wesley smirked and pressed the gas, enjoying not having kids in the car to worry about for once.

Not that hard. 

.....................................................................................................................................................................

A/N: I know Cordy's kind of done a 180, but I'm trying to incorporate the Cordelia that we saw with Connor -- so completely devoted. And I am so completely out of my element writing kids, so I'm not sure how the next few chapters will pan out. Hopefully you'll all stick with me, lol.

Thanks very much to my reviewers!


	9. ch 9

"Angel, I need to talk to you."

Angel, who had literally just stepped out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel, regarded his best friend curiously. He wasn't surprised at her brashness about walking in on him, he just wondered why. "What's up?"

She hesitated, and _that _surprised him. "What is it? Is it the kids?"

"No," she said, rolling her eyes. "Not really. I've been thinking about something for awhile, and now that the kids are in school I think we can do it."

"Do what?"

"Expand the business."

"What? How?"

Cordelia started pacing then. She'd been making plans for months, had done countless hours of research. She'd been so sure of herself and her idea that she wasn't sure how she'd handle the situation if Angel shot it down.

"By doing security. Like bodyguards, events, that kind of thing. We'd have a bigger client base, too, because we could do humans _and _demons. And that totally came out wrong -- but you get my drift. So," she said, crossing her arms. "What do you think?"

"We don't have enough people for that kind of thing."

Anticipating that reaction, she had her answer prepared. "We'd hire two more people at first. Once things picked up, we could hire more."

The look in his eyes told her all she needed to know. Angel didn't want to hire more people because that would be putting innocent people at risk or something dumb like that. But still, she waited for him to speak. "Well?" She prodded.

"I don't know, Cordy. Do you really think it's good for the kids?"

"_What_?"

"I mean, how do you think they'll be affected by this? From the sounds of it, we'd all have a lot more work, which means less time for them."

Cordelia opened her mouth, closed it, and then narrowed her eyes dangerously. "I can't _believe _you! The world does not revolve around those kids! Angel, I'm trying to do something good here for all of us, and all you can think about is whether or not you'll get to be there for dinner and baths every damn night? God! Grow up! The kids are in school now, and they're getting older. Soon they're not going to need you around all the time. What then, huh?"

Looking wholly unaffected by her outburst, Angel frowned. "What do the others think about this?"

"Nothing. I came to you first as a professional courtesy. That, and I wanted my best friend's support," she replied icily.

Finally realizing to some degree how big an ass he was being, Angel softened his tone. "It's a good idea, Cordy, and if we didn't have the kids I would definitely go for it. But..."

"But we have the kids." Her tone matched his, but with a twinge of disappointment added in. What he didn't realize was that her disappointment was directed at him, not the fact that he hadn't gone for her idea.

"You really surprise me sometimes, you know that?" She said, sounding decidedly un-Cordy-like. "The kids would be fine with this and you know it. You're just afraid of the change."

"Please, Cordelia. I am not afraid of change."

"Then why are you trying your damnedest to stop it? You won't accept the fact that the kids are getting older, you've worn the same coat for five years, you still pine over Buffy when you drink -- yeah, I know about that -- and you refuse to accept this idea of mine. You're afraid of what might happen if you change anything."

"I am _not _afraid of change! If I was I'd still have long hair."

"Well thank God for small miracles," she muttered. Angel sighed in frustration and raked a hand through his hair. "Cordelia, I am _not _afraid of change. I don't necessarily like it, but I'm not afraid of it."

"Fine, you don't like it. Either way, you'd think you would have gotten used to it by now."

Angel started to defend himself, but stopped when he realized that Cordelia seemed to be looking for a fight. "Cordy, what's going on? Where is this coming from?"

"Four years of you becoming a slave to those kids!" She snapped immediately. "Look, I get that you're grateful to have them, but you shouldn't put your life on hold until they're eighteen, Angel."

"I have not."

"Right," she said with a snort. "When was the last time you went on a date? Ninety-seven?"

"Cordy, I can't-"

"Yes you _can._ A date does not mean you have to sleep with the person. Besides, Wes was right. Hardly any relationships are perfect. You and Buffy were just a freak occurrence."

Angel, not wanting to admit that she was right, folded his arms across his chest (realizing that he was still only wearing a towel) and replied, "I don't want to take the chance."

"Angel, sex isn't the only thing that can make you lose your soul. You're so happy around the kids that half the time I expect to come home to Angelus playing babysitter."

Angel dropped his arms. He hadn't ever considered that possibility. If she was right and he became so happy around his children that he lost his soul, not one of them would stand a chance.

At his stricken look, Cordelia bit her lip. "It sucks to think about, but it _could _happen," she said, a little less harshly. "Angel..... I just want you to start being _you _again. You can brood sometimes, you can be bossy, you can date, whatever. Hell, just go to one movie that has a higher rating than G and I'll be happy. And think about my idea," she added, remembering why she'd gotten mad in the first place.

"Cordy..." he sighed, and was interrupted by a small voice.

"Are you fighting?"

Both he and Cordy looked down at Bridget, who'd come in the room unnoticed. She looked so perfect in her white pants and little green sleeveless shirt, with a ribbon in her slightly curled hair to match. Angel smiled at her. "No, princess, we weren't fighting. We were just talking. How come you changed your outfit?" He knew for a fact that wasn't what she was wearing when she left for school that morning because he'd helped her pick _that _outfit out.

"That's what she's wearing to the audition," Cordelia explained, checking her watch. "Which is in an hour, so we have to get going. Are your brothers ready?" She asked her daughter, who nodded. "Good. Why don't you go wait with them?"

"'Kay. Bye Daddy."

"Bye, kiddo. Good luck!"

As Bridget skipped out of the room, Angel turned to Cordy. "When are you going stop with that?"

"When they ask me to. You know that I'm not forcing them to go to these auditions -- I didn't say a word when Libby, Ivy, and Darren wanted to stop." As infants the kids had gotten a lot of commercials and bit parts in movies and TV. It wasn't until recently that a few of them had grown tired with the acting gig. "I've gotta go or we'll be late. Think about it, Angel!" Offering her a half-hearted reply, Angel watched her saunter out the door in a skirt that was all together too tight for a mother to be wearing. The instant the thought entered his head, his lips curled in distaste.

When the hell had he become such an...... old man?

"Cordy's right," he mused, shaking his head as the reality of his life over the past four years hit him fast and hard. "I really need a girlfriend."

................................................................................................................................................................

A/N: Short, I know, but what can ya do? This chapter's really just setting some minor stuff up, and I wanted to give Angel some airtime. Also, I was wondering what you all think about Spike: should I bring him in or not? Either way, it doesn't matter to me. I'd just like some feedback on that.

And for those wondering, Marek will be back! (And for the record, I'm aware of the fact that white pants on a child is a stupid idea, lol)


	10. ch 10

It had only been a year since he'd last seen the Fang Gang, but to Marek that year had seemed like an eternity. The last job he'd taken had landed him in more hot water than he'd ever believed possible. Now that it was over, the last twelve months of his life could have been a Tarantino movie -- one he was not anxious to see again.

And that was the very reason he found himself standing on the stoop of the Hyperion Hotel. He needed some downtime, but not so much that he got bored, and he really wanted to see a friendly face again. It'd been so long he'd practically forgotten what one looked like.

Instead of using his abilities to sneak in unnoticed, he decided to do it the old fashioned way and walked in. The sight that greeted him was neither unexpected nor unpleasant, though it wasn't exactly a friendly face.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

He didn't bother to bite back his grin. "Hello, Cordelia." The lobby was empty but for her, and he could only wonder where the others were. The look on her face made him wonder if he should be envious of their absence.

"Don't you 'hello Cordelia' me! You up and leave for a _year _with hardly a word, and just when I'm lulled into a false sense of hope, you come back again?"

"What can I say? I just couldn't stay away. So, no hug?"

He watched as amusement and annoyance flashed in her big dark eyes, and as she fought for annoyance to win. Finally she replied, "How 'bout I don't throw you out instead?"

He couldn't help but laugh. "You're as enchanting as ever, Cordelia." Coming out from behind the counter, she snorted. "And you're as deluded as ever." Playing along, he questioned her meaning. "You actually think you're charming," she replied with a smirk.

"Oh, you wound me," he said dramatically, clutching at his chest in feigned hurt. "Seriously, though, you look great. How's life?"

"Same as ever. Visions, demons, bills, the usual. Been trying to talk Angel into expanding the business, but he's being stubborn. The others are on board so we should be able to wear him down soon enough. What about you?"

Memories, painful ones, flooded his mind and he frowned. "Things haven't been great, but they're looking up now. So why don't you tell me about your business plan?" He was the master of evasion, and this time was no exception as Cordelia started outlining her plans for the future of the agency. The more she spoke, the more he liked. It was a great idea -- which gave _him _one. Apparently the only thing really holding Angel back was hiring new (innocent and untrustworthy) people.

"You know, I'm in between jobs right now, so if you need an extra man, I'm available. Plus, I've got more than enough experience." He'd done everything from body-guarding to bounty hunting to mercenary work. Working security would be a vacation after all that. She didn't know the dirty details of his past -- none of them did, really -- but she knew enough to consider the idea.

"All right," she said slowly, beginning to like his offer. "I'll talk to Angel when he gets back."

"Where is everyone, anyway? The kids?"

"Angel and Gunn are out on a case; Wes and Fred went out for lunch, and I don't know where Lorne went. As for the kids, they're in school"

His brows skyrocketed at that. "School? Already? They're so-"

"Young? They're five in a couple of weeks."

He would have asked if the thought of her babies growing up was a depressing one but she would have just laughed, that he was certain of. "So they're all in school. I bet they love it."

"Yes and no. Most kids don't have really exciting lives -- I mean, how many can say their Dad's a vampire? They like having other kids to play with though."

"Well I can't wait to see them. It's been a long time." He was surprised by how much he _did _want to see Cordelia's children. They were just so innocent, so free of any of the ugliness that had plagued him over most of his life, and that was something he rarely got to experience.

Cordelia shrugged and returned to the computer behind the desk. "Libby's in the playroom if you want to say hi. She stayed home sick. Just go down that hallway, second door on the left."

Following her instructions, Marek found the playroom easily enough. It was large, painted in a pastel yellow. Toys of all kinds littered the space, and in the center of the room was Libby, lying on her stomach on an oversized cushion on the floor as she watched cartoons on the TV that stood only a few feet from her face. Her pajama-clad legs swung back and forth as she chewed on the straw in her juice box.

"Hi there," he said after a moment. The little girl glanced over her shoulder and looked him up and down. "Hi." Apparently she found him, a six-foot, blue-skinned, white-haired half-demon, more interesting than her show because she sat up and turned her attention fully on him. "Who are you?" She asked around the straw in her mouth.

"My name's Marek," he said, joining her on the floor. "You don't remember me, but I've known you since you were a baby."

"You're a demon." It was more a statement of fact than question, and he liked her directness, knowing it was something only children could pull off unscathed. "Yes, I am. Well, half anyway."

Tilting her head to the side, she continued to stare at him with wide, moss-green eyes. Instead of allowing himself to be unnerved by a four-year-old, he stared right back, not caring how childish it was.

"You're like Nightcrawler," she said after a moment.

"Nightcrawler?" The name rang a faint bell, but not one he could place.

"From X-Men," she explained. "He's blue too."

"You like X-Men?"

She nodded, a few strands of her long dark hair falling out of her loose braid in the process. "Yep. Do you have any powers?"

The question caught him off-guard. Realistically he knew she was probably equating him with characters in the movie, but he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more behind it. Making a snap decision that he hoped he wouldn't regret later, Marek decided to tell Libby what he could do.

"Do you know what a chameleon is?" She shrugged, and he took it for a no. Deciding that showing her would be much easier than explaining, he concentrated on the surroundings. When Libby's eyes widened, he smiled. It wasn't often that he got to show off.

"You can turn invisible?" She gasped. "Cool!"

"Actually, I'm not invisible. I can just make myself look the same as anything I want. Like the wall. I can turn the exact same colour as the wall and then you can't see me. That's just like what a chameleon does."

"Kind of like Mystique?"

He hadn't the faintest idea who Mystique was, and either she was astute enough to pick it up, or just didn't feel like waiting. "She can make herself look like anybody she wants -- even boys." He raised a brow in surprise. He didn't know how many kids her age could have made that connection, and he was impressed. "Kind of, yeah. So you really like X-Men, huh?"

"Uh huh. Mystique's my favourite. Whenever we play Superheroes I'm always her. Caleb says she doesn't count 'cause she's a bad guy, but I never listen to him."

"Well every superhero needs an enemy," he agreed. She nodded, a fierce look of determination on her face. "That's what I said, but he's stupid. He thinks Ivy can't be Spiderman just 'cause she's a girl."

"That's not very fair. Who does he play?"

"Dad." The amount of contempt that went with the reply was more than he'd seen on a few adults. He could only assume she meant Angel, but he figured it was her brother that her distaste was directed at.

"So, how do you like school?"

"Good."

"Is it hard?"

She shook her head. "My teacher's teaching us the alphabet, but I already know it. Daddy and Auntie Fred taught us when we were smaller. We can already read a little bit."

"Wow." His own childhood had been spent playing with his friends from dawn 'til dusk in the small demon community where his mother had raised him and his sister. School hadn't been high on his list of priorities.

"So what do you want for your birthday? It's coming up, right?"

Her face lit up at the mention of her birthday. "I want a kitty. Mom said maybe, but I'm gonna get it."

"Really," he said, amused. She was so damn sure of herself. "And how do you know that?"

"Because I saw Mommy looking in the phone book at pet stores. I even know what I'm going to name her already."

"What's that?"

"Selina."

"That's a pretty name. Where'd you hear it?"

"It's Catwoman's name. Her real one, anyway. Sometimes I'm her when we play Superheroes, too."

Rocking back on his heels, Marek shook his head with a laugh. "You are one very observant girl, Libby."

"My teacher said that once when I told her that her hair didn't match her eyebrows." She looked so serious that he struggled to hold in his laughter. "I bet she did." Getting to his feet, Marek smiled down at her. "I'm going to go talk to your Mom now. Enjoy your cartoons."

Heading back to the lobby, Marek found Cordelia in the same position she'd occupied when he first arrived: hunched over the keyboard, the computer screen casting a bluish tint on her features.

"Have a good chat?" She asked, not taking her eyes off her work.

"Keep an eye on that one," he joked, helping himself to some coffee that sat in the corner. Glancing over, Cordy raised a brow. "What makes you say that?"

"Only little girl I know who likes to play the femme fatale while the rest of her siblings are pretending to be Spiderman or Angel."

"Oh, that," Cordelia grimaced. "Luckily she has no clue about the 'femme fatale' part." She said, punctuating the name with air quotes. "Not that that's her intention when she pretends to be Catwoman or whatever. She just likes portraying strong female characters, that's all," she continued defensively. "Besides," she added with a smirk. "It drives the guys nuts. It's just a phase, though. She'll get over it."

"You hope," he teased.

"She _will._" Obviously the subject was closed, as she turned to the doorway where Wesley and Fred were just coming in. "Hey guys, how was lunch?" Fred grinned eagerly. "It was great! We saw Orlando Bloom buying a hot dog. I love it when stars are so normal."

"Hey, you guys didn't happen to bring a doggy bag, did you? I'm starving." Marek abandoned his coffee cup at the counter and moved forward to greet the pair. "Marek!" Wesley exclaimed, looking genuinely happy to see him. "When did you get here?"

"Obviously between the time you two left for lunch and now," Cordy pointed out dryly. "But that's not important. Marek's decided that he's gonna stick around. Which means we have another employee, which means-"

"Which means that Angel will have one less reason to hold out on the expansion," Wes finished. "Exactly!" Cordy chirped, then got down to business. "Before I forget... Fred, some scientific journal called for you -- number's on the desk. Wes, a delivery came for you, and don't forget to do your magic-mojo screening on it. Oh, and it's Meet the Parents night on Thursday. I want all three of us to go."

"I've already cleared my schedule," he assured her. "So, Marek, tell us about your year. Anything exciting happen?"

__

More than you want to know. He didn't know how many people would consider torture, imprisonment, and one wild weekend with a Moroccan contortionist -- to name only a few things -- exciting, but most of it was not what he deemed appropriate conversation topics with people he hadn't seen in a year. So instead of answering, he skilfully turned the conversation around. "Nothing special, really. Apparently that's not the case around here. When did this happen?" He gestured to the closeness between Wesley and Fred. "Last I checked, things between you two were more one-sided."

Wesley managed to look embarrassed and smug at the same time, while Fred blushed prettily. "A few months ago."

"Took 'em long enough," Cordelia muttered and rolled her eyes, though obviously happy for the duo. Marek instantly turned his attention on her. "And what about you, Cordelia?"

Her eyes narrowed dangerously -- a sign that said 'Back Off' loud and clear. "What about me?"

A sign which he had every intention of ignoring. "Any boyfriends, dates, prospects?"

"That's none of your damn business."

"So there's nobody?"

"I didn't say that," she seethed. "What about _you_?"

He smirked. "We're not talking about me. So, you _are _seeing someone then?"

Fred, who'd seated herself on one of the couches to enjoy the show, snorted. "Only if you count Angel. They've been dancing around each other for months." When Cordelia turned her searing gaze on the Texan, Fred lost some of her confidence. "What? It's true!"

"_So _not!"

Marek watched as the women argued back and forth over the subject, and knew instinctively that Fred was telling the truth. Why would Cordelia be so defensive otherwise?

"You look... troubled." Wesley's voice was low as he sidled up next to Marek, who shrugged. "Can't think of a time when I wasn't. So, how've you been, really?" As Wes started in on his life over the past year, Marek continued to watch Cordelia, who'd cowed Fred enough to win their argument and had gone back to working.

It wasn't like he was surprised there was an attraction between Cordelia and Angel -- she was a beautiful, enigmatic woman. What man wouldn't want that? The only question that plagued him was one that had stuck with him since the first couple of months that he'd gotten to know her.

__

Did he? 

..............................................................................................................................................................................

A/N: Couple of things.... I feel like I didn't really hit my groove with this chapter, so it seems a bit awkward to me. Since I don't remember what it's like to be four, nor have I been in the vicinity of a four-year-old in _years _(seriously), I haven't the faintest idea how to write one appropriately. Please remember that when you review.

Also, I promise that I'll bring the kids into the story more, starting with the next chapter, but since I just can't write small children, you'll have to wait a bit until they start taking center stage (read: chapters from their POVs)

Thanks again to my reviewers!


	11. ch 11

"Angel, stop fidgeting. We're meeting their teachers, not the Pope." Cordelia cast an appraising eye over the guys, adjusting the collar of Angel's shirt and straightening Wesley's tie.

"I'm not fidgeting. And what about him? He's wearing a _tie_."

Wesley narrowed his eyes, but it was Cordelia who spoke up. "Oh, be quiet. He looks good. Now let's go." She led the way to the other small groups of parents filing into the school, and it didn't take long for them to find themselves outside the first classroom. There were several parents inside admiring the kids' artwork or talking to each other or the teacher.

"Ms. Mulcahey, Bridget and Darren's teacher," Cordelia explained quietly to Angel, who'd never gotten the opportunity to escort the kids to school before. She went on to point out the parents that she recognized and introduced him to Donna and Jim Webb, who'd come over to say hello. Wesley offered a quick greeting and then politely excused himself, having no desire to listen to playground gossip, as he'd dubbed it. After introductions it was inevitable, what with Cordelia and Angel having absolutely nothing in common with the Webbs, other than the fact that their kids were in the same class.

And with nothing else to discuss, they all (with the exception of Angel) fell back on safe topics like gossiping about the other parents and families.

Frankly, Wesley had gotten his fill of the gossip after nothing but a week of it as they'd waited with the children in the playground in the early morning before the first bell. After he'd noticed that the parents were starting to lump together in their own little groups -- an action that reminded him all too much of his own adolescence -- Wesley had begun waiting in the car for Cordelia, or keeping an watchful eye on the children cavorting around the asphalt schoolyard.

Cordelia had asked on more than one occasion why he even bothered coming anymore if he wasn't going to socialize, but he'd just ignored the questions. Bringing the kids to school in the morning was something he'd only be able to do for so long, and he wanted to cherish it. Memories of his Nanny dropping him off at school and speeding away as soon as he was safely in the yard plagued him, and he wanted his children to have a much better childhood than he'd had.

Even if they barely offered him a goodbye before jetting off to their friends.

Still, he knew they'd appreciate his attentiveness when they got to be his age, with children of their own. And if he were honest with himself, he needed to see them off -- there was no better feeling than the one of watching your children grow up, seeing the excitement and wonder in their eyes when they learned something new. As a scholar himself, that part was especially dear to him, which was why he was anxious to hear what their teachers had to say.

The teacher in question, Ms. Mulcahey, was busy with another parent, so he occupied himself by perusing the artwork displayed on the walls. The theme of the pictures was obviously family. Most of them looked the same: stick figures of mom, dad, and kids. A few were different, however, with single parents, one which looked like two mothers -- he couldn't be sure, though -- and then he came upon one that he instantly recognized as his family. If the six identical children didn't give it away, the red-horned green person in a blue suit certainly did. Darren's name was neatly printed in the corner, most likely by the teacher.

Wesley couldn't help wondering what Ms. Mulcahey had thought of Darren's family portrait upon first seeing it. True, all the kindergarten teachers had been apprised of their unique three-parent family, but none knew quite how extended the family was.

"Mr. Wyndham-Price, isn't it?"

Wes looked over at the voice and found the very object of his thoughts standing next to him. The children's teacher was a woman who exuded warmth and comfort. She always seemed to be smiling or laughing and encouraged both her students and their parents to come to her if they needed an ear or shoulder. He smiled. "Wesley, please."

"Alright, Wesley then. I see you're admiring your son's work."

"I'm biased," he said with a grin, "but Darren's quite an artist."

With a burst of laughter that drew more than a few looks, she nodded to the pictures dotting the wall. "That's what they all say, and they're right."

"About being biased?" Wesley replied with a raised brow and smile playing at the corners of his mouth. She laughed again. "That too, but I meant about the kids being good artists. I've seen worse in some museums."

"Now you're sounding biased," he teased. She shrugged easily. "How could I not? Besides, there's nothing more interesting than the mind of a child-"

"True enough."

"-which is exactly what I thought when I first saw this picture."

Here we go.

"When I asked Darren about this," She pointed to Lorne in the picture, "he told me it was his uncle. Now, at first I thought -- well, I didn't know what to think. Then I saw Bridget's picture." She paused a minute, looking a little uncertain. "I was hoping you could explain it. Is it a twin thing? Or-"

"No, he actually is their uncle. He's an.... entertainer." Yes, entertainer seemed the best route to go. "That look is part of his act." Luckily she seemed to accept the explanation at face value and smiled in apparent relief. "Good! That's....good."

"So, how are they doing?" He'd had a lot of experience dealing with situations like this one, and had become an expert at segueing from one topic to another. Ms. Mulcahey brightened, clearly happy to be back on solid ground. "They're doing wonderfully. They have an excellent grasp on the alphabet and are ahead of the class because of their reading skills."

Wesley couldn't contain his pride at that. He and Fred had worked tirelessly with the children, and apparently it had paid off.

"Darren's a little charmer," she continued. "All the girls love him. As for Bridget, she's a bit of a diva, if you don't mind my saying." She was so genuine and _happy _that Wesley found it impossible to take offence to the comment. The fact that it was true probably had something to do with it, too. "Not at all," he replied, hoping to ease her mind somehow.

"She's very demanding, that one. But she's a leader. There aren't many of the kids who don't listen when she speaks." It was nothing Wesley hadn't expected of Bridget -- she was every inch her mother's daughter. "And she seems to have a head for numbers. Now, I can't be sure until she's tested, but I think she may be gifted. Mathematically, at least."

That was definitely something he had _not _expected to hear. He couldn't have been more pleased, though. "That- that's wonderful!" He exclaimed. Ms. Mulcahey went on to explain more about Bridget and Darren's progress and social skills, and by the time Cordelia and Angel wandered over, she was moving on to the next set of parents.

"So what'd she say?" Cordelia asked, watching the woman closely. "That Darren's charming and Bridget's a gifted diva," Wesley replied, summing up a five minute conversation into one sentence.

"Diva?" Cordelia sputtered at the same time Angel said, "Gifted?"

"She called my child a _diva_? Where does she get off-"

"Cordelia," Wesley interrupted calmly. "Bridget _is _a diva. You know that. Besides, that's not what's important here. Ms. Mulcahey thinks Bridget might be gifted, mathematically speaking." There was the briefest of pauses before Cordelia gave a sort-of smirk. "Well duh."

"You knew about this?" He asked, brows raised in surprise.

"No, but I'm not surprised."

"Why not?" Angel asked, still reeling from the news that his baby was a genius. Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Call it mother's intuition. Now come on, we've got two more to go."

"I hope all the news is this good," Angel murmured as he and Wes followed Cordy to the next classroom. Looking back over her shoulder, Cordelia narrowed her eyes. "You better not have just jinxed it, Angel."

Now Angel rolled his eyes. "There's no such thing."

"There _so _is!"

The pair, both being incredibly stubborn, knew they'd reached a stalemate so they did the only thing they knew of to settle the argument. "Wesley?"

"Well, actually, there is reference to..."

.................................

"How'd it go?"

Fred, who'd been pretending to do research for the last twenty minutes, pounced as soon as the trio stepped through the door. "Ooh," she said, eyeing the boxes in Angel's hands. "Pizza?" Helping herself to a slice of pepperoni and sausage, she prodded for details. "So? What'd they say?"

"Bridget's a math genius!" Angel exclaimed proudly. Fred's eyes grew round as saucers. "What? Really?"

"According to her teacher," Wesley said. "We'll have to have her tested, of course."

"Of course," Fred agreed, but her mind was already kicking into overdrive. She could finally have someone to talk physics with who wouldn't glaze over before she finished her first sentence. They could even work together to figure out all sorts of...

"Fred?"

Jolted back to the present, she smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. What about the others?"

"Noah and Ivy have this battle-axe for a teacher," Cordelia began, obviously upset about whatever the teacher had said. "She not-so-subtly implied that Ivy needs more discipline. She practically called my daughter a savage!"

Fred looked to Angel and Wesley to correct her, but was surprised when they didn't. "She kinda did," Angel said at her look.

"A savage!" Cordelia continued to rant. "Please. Ivy's got more culture in her pinky than that old crone's got in her whole family."

"Ivy's just free-spirited," Fred offered, hoping to move things along a bit. "What about Noah?" Cordy's expression softened a bit at the mention of Noah. "She said that he's the best-behaved kid in her class. He's quiet and helpful, and smart as a whip, of course." Fred helped herself to a second slice. "They all are, but we knew that already. What else?" Cordelia relayed what the teachers had said as she ate, the others interjecting their opinions here and there. "Oh yeah," she added. "We got eight more RSVPs for the party."

"I can't believe we're doing that," Wesley said, shaking his head.

"I think it's a great idea," Fred defended. "Besides, Lorne would be crushed if we cancelled. He's been planning this thing for a month."

Since the kids' birthday was so close to Halloween, they had decided to throw a Halloween-themed party, and had invited all the children in the three kindergarten classes, as well as their parents.

"So how many is that, anyway?" Fred asked.

Cordelia paused in eating to mentally tally the number of RSVPs. "Uh.... thirty-eight, plus parents."

"Dear God," Wesley muttered. "I'm going to develop an ulcer, I just know it." Fred put her plans for a third piece on hold and went over to her lover. Settling herself on his lap, she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Don't be so negative, hon."

"Yeah, Wes. You're being a total downer," Cordelia added, ignoring the scathing look he sent her in response. "That may be," he said. "But I don't see why we just couldn't have a small affair with family and a few of their friends."

"That," Cordelia said in her most patronizing tone. "Is exactly why you didn't date in high school."

"I suppose the fact that I went to an all-boys school had nothing to do with it," He replied coolly. From her seat on his lap, Fred tried to ease the tension a little. "It'll be fun, Wes. I promise. Now, who's up for pie?"

As the women headed to the hotel's kitchen to raid the fridge for leftover pie and Angel disappeared down the hall to the playroom, Wesley was left alone with his thoughts and the pizza.

Stressful, yes, but fun? A horde of children and their parents invading the Hotel for an afternoon was not his idea of fun. And what if something came up, like an attack or vision? He'd tried to warn them of the risks, but they were all too gung-ho about the idea to truly consider them.

Fun? Maybe for some. Interesting? Definitely.

........................................................................................................................................................................

A/N: Spike will not be coming into this story unless it's just a minor appearance. Thanks to everyone who gave their opinion on the matter. Also, I'm trying to come up with band names for another story, so I'd love to hear some ideas.


	12. ch 12

"T-minus thirty minutes and counting, kids!"

Lorne surveyed what had been the hotel lounge once upon a time, but was now the stage for what would be the greatest birthday-slash-kiddie-Halloween party of all time. The place had been transformed into the best looking Haunted House he'd ever seen, with most of the displayed weapons and torture instruments being real ones that they'd either had laying around or had borrowed. They didn't run to the truly horrifying, though, and were kept well out of reach of sticky, curious fingers. Didn't want to give the kiddies nightmares or anything.

The best part, however, was not decorations. It was that he got to stay for the party, and had, in fact, employed a few of his gentler demon pals for the affair. Nobody would look twice at a demon at a Halloween party.

"Oh, Lorne, it looks amazing!"

Grinning from ear to ear at Fred's enthusiastic compliment, he settled an arm around her shoulder. "It does, doesn't it? And what about you? You look divine." Fred smoothed her elegant black dress with a gloved hand. "Well, I figured Audrey Hepburn was about as far from science geek as possible."

"Honey, you could give Audrey a run for her money. You're gonna knock your man's socks off."

Blushing prettily, Fred smiled. "Thanks, Lorne. This....this isn't too scary for the kids, right? It looks kinda scary..."

"Not a chance. It's a bit too campy to be scary, I made sure of that." He said, waving off her concern. "Now, where _is _Wesley? I've been dying to see his costume since he refused to tell me what it is." With a laugh that was too big and boisterous to match her elegant _Breakfast at Tiffany's _look, Fred explained that he was helping the kids finish getting ready. "Wait 'til you see him, Lorne," she said, curbing her laughter some. "He looks adorable."

And indeed he did. When Wesley finally made an appearance in the lounge, Lorne openly grinned. He was decked out in black pants and shirt, the Bat symbol affixed to his chest and cape draped over his shoulders. Through the slits in the mask that came equipped with ears, Wesley silently dared Lorne to say anything. Not that that stopped him. "Fred was right. You _do_ look adorable. Why Batman?"

With a sigh that wasn't altogether convincing, he explained. "Libby begged me to. She said that Catwoman just wasn't the same without Batman to boss around."

"She did, huh?" At the ex-Watcher's nod, Lorne grinned wider. "Smart girl."

Just then, the kids came tearing into the room, their excitement palpable. As one, they zeroed in on Lorne and raced over to show off their costumes. If nothing else, the kids had made interesting choices. There was Ivy dressed as Spiderman; Caleb as a mini-Angel, complete with the leather jacked and gelled hair. Bridget had gone the predictable route as a princess, as had Libby as Catwoman. Darren had a toy guitar strapped to his back, and Lorne could only assume he was a rock star, while Noah had gone a somewhat traditional route of cowboy.

"Where's your costume, Uncle Lorne?" Noah asked, sounding truly puzzled. "I _am _in costume, lambchop. I'm the Host." As expected, it went right over their six little heads, but Fred and Wes caught it and smiled. Just then Gunn poked his head in the room. "They're here!"

The kids all shrieked with anticipation and scrambled to meet up with their friends. Libby grabbed a hold of Wesley. "C'mon, Daddy!" With a smile, he allowed himself to be dragged along. Fred watched him go, the love in her eyes unmistakable. "He loves this," she said, almost wistfully. "What's that?" Lorne asked.

"Fatherhood."

"And he's good at it too."

"He really is, isn't he?"

"Definitely. Imagine what he'll be like when you two start having 'em." Not concerning himself with her look of pure shock at the idea, Lorne addressed his DJ.

"Hit it, Donny!"

...................................

"Cordelia!"

At the sound of her name, Cordelia sighed before turning. When she saw Sheila Kelley making her way over, she silently thanked any deity listening that it wasn't another crisis needing to be handled. "Hey Sheila, when did you get here?"

Sheila took the glass of punch Cordy was offering. "A few minutes ago. This place looks fantastic!"

"I'll have to introduce you to Lorne; he did it."

"I can't believe he did all of this for a bunch of five-year-olds."

Cordelia finished off the punch in her glass and helped herself to a brownie from the table. "He adores them. But it's not just for the kids -- it's for the parents, too. Perfect opportunity for everyone to get to know each other."

"Hell of a lot better than the PTA," Sheila agreed. "You guys totally went above and beyond, though. I just love the costumes you've got the staff wearing, by the way. They look so realistic!" The staff being the demons Lorne had acting as DJ and photographer, among other things, so there was a reason they looked so real. "I'll be sure to mention it to Lorne," Cordelia replied, her tone not betraying her amusement. "So what about you?" She asked, taking in Sheila's colourful scrubs. "Costume or work thing?"

"Work. I left a little early today because I promised April I'd come. Since her dad moved to Arizona, I try to be there as much as I can for her." Sheila was an ER nurse, which was a very demanding job, especially for a single mother. "Anyway, I'm glad I came. I don't get to do fun stuff a lot."

"Yeah, I know what you mean." Even with everybody there to help with the kids, Cordelia was usually so busy with work that she rarely got to go out. Hell, she didn't even have any friends outside the gang. Dammit, she _deserved _friends! "Do you want to go out for drinks or something sometime?"

"I would _love _to. I just have to figure out a day that both me and my babysitter is off."

"Don't worry about that. You can bring April over here, the guys'll watch her-"

"Are you sure they won't mind? I mean, could they handle another one?" Cordelia grinned at the thought of the guys being outnumbered and overruled by a group of five-year-olds. It would be chaos, hilarious chaos. "What's one more? Besides, it's not like they've got anything better to do."

"What, none of them have dates or girlfriends or anything? Wesley must, he's too cute not to."

"He does, actually. She's right over there." Cordelia pointed Fred out in the crowd, where she was currently doing the twist with a couple of the kids and more adventurous parents to _Monster Mash _and laughing her head off. "She looks fun," Sheila said after a moment. "So what about the others, where are they?"

She pointed out Angel, who was talking to a couple of guys near the door; Lorne, who was making the rounds and had apparently developed an entourage, if the gaggle of kids following his every move was any indication; and Gunn, who was grossing the kids out with fake body parts. At least, she hoped they were fake.

"Well I'm jealous," Sheila said with a dramatic sigh. "I can't even find a half-decent guy, and here you are living with three gorgeous ones."

"Yeah, you wouldn't be saying that if _you _lived with them. I've known Angel and Wesley since high school, so I've seen them do some pretty questionable things."

"Like you've never done questionable stuff?" Sheila remarked rhetorically, a brow raised in disbelief. Cordelia shook her head, smirked. "I was popular in high school, so nobody questioned what I did or said."

Sheila laughed. "Oh, you were one of _those_."

"Was?" Came a wry male voice. Cordelia frowned at it, but didn't jump when he just appeared out of nowhere, not any more. Marek was just casually standing there, looking his usual arrogant self. Rolling her eyes extra hard to show how much he was annoying her, Cordelia went about introducing the pair. "Sheila, this is Marek. Marek, Sheila Kelley." Extending his hand, Marek offered a sly smile. "She still is one of _those._ Well, she likes to think so, anyway."

"I am so not in the mood to listen to-"

"When are you ever?" He retorted immediately with an infuriating smirk. Trying desperately to reign in her temper, Cordelia took one or two calming breaths. There was just something about him that made her want rip out her hair in frustration. That, or punch him a good dozen times. "Look," she bit out slowly, choosing her words deliberately. Unfortunately, her efforts at civility were for nothing because he cut her off _again._

Smiling like the cat who'd caught the canary, he said, "Lighten up, Cordy. This is a party, remember?"

And then, while she was left there gaping like a fish as her frustration and anger warred with each other, he brazenly turned his back on her and struck up a conversation with Sheila, who looked _far_ too amused at the situation for Cordelia's liking.

"Which one's yours?"

"The butterfly," Sheila replied, fighting a grin as she caught Cordelia's expression. "April." Marek found the girl in the crowd and nodded. "Looks like she and Libby have hit it off." The girls were huddled close together, whispering to each other as they fixated on a trio of little boys who were thoroughly enjoying Gunn's show of eyeballs and human brains.

The pair chatted a few minutes more while Cordelia channelled all her anger into the deadliest glare she could muster -- which, of course, he seemed completely oblivious to. When he excused himself to take a call that had interrupted a lovely story he was telling about the first time he'd babysat the kids and Cordy's reaction to the situation (which he'd totally blown out of proportion), Sheila addressed Cordelia almost gleefully.

"He has a thing for you."

"I _beg _your pardon?"

"Oh, come on! How can you not see it?"

"Easy. Because 'it' doesn't exist."

Sheila shook her head in such a way that made Cordelia feel like she was missing something. "Seriously, Cordy," she said, adopting the nickname from Marek. "He could hardly take his eyes off of you-"

"That doesn't mean anything. I could have something in my teeth." She was so scandalized by what Sheila was suggesting that she didn't care if there actually was something stuck between her teeth. "You don't." Sheila confirmed. "Didn't you notice that practically everything he said was about you, one way or another?"

"No."

Sheila pursed her lips and studied her new friend. There was something about the way Cordelia had been so damned opposed to the idea that had Sheila wondering if there wasn't more to the story. "Why are you so against it?" She asked curiously. Cordelia just stared at her as if the answer should have been obvious. "Because he's arrogant and infuriating, and every time I see him, I want to smack him silly." _And because he was trying to kidnap my children the first time we met, _she silently added. She'd gotten over it for the most part, but it was still a bit of a sore spot. She still had trust issues where Marek was concerned because of it, and because of his secrecy and the way he'd drop in and out like an unwanted relative.

And she couldn't be with someone who she didn't trust, could she?

As she contemplated the absurd notion of Marek -- cocky, annoying Smurf that he was -- having _feelings _for her (_please!_) two things happened. One, she noticed that Marek was corralling the guys with a look on his face that she knew well, and second, Caleb came running up so fast she was sure he was going to wipe out and take her down with him.

"Cal, slow down before you hurt yourself!" She warned, nearly bracing herself for impact. But the little boy was more nimble than she expected, skidding to a stop mere inches from her. He grinned up at her. "When do we get cake?"

"Looks to me like you've already had enough sugar today."

Immediately he shook his little head. "Uh uh," he said, giving her his most innocent look. "So can we have cake now?"

"Let's go find uncle Lorne and ask him. He's in charge today." Taking Caleb's hand, she excused herself. Sheila waved her off and started chatting with another parent. "So, you having fun?" She asked conversationally. Caleb nodded so hard he looked like a dashboard decoration and practically shouted his response. "Yeah! Can I play soccer?"

"What?" she asked, startled by the abrupt change of topic. "Soccer?"

"Yeah. Travis and Mickey play, and I want to play too. Can I?"

"Uh, sure, honey. Hey guys, what's going on?" They'd reached Lorne, who had congregated near the door with Angel, Wesley, and Marek. "We've got to go," Angel said, his expression unreadable. "There's a demon cult planning a sacrifice-"

"How do you know that?" She demanded, Caleb's quest for cake virtually forgotten. It just figured that reality would have to intrude _today_. Her only consolation was that the guys looked just as upset about it as she felt. "I got a call from one of my contacts," Marek replied quietly, scanning the room. "What are you doing?" She snapped. "Looking for eavesdroppers? Like they care. Anyway, how do we even know it's reliable?"

"Because he's never failed me before," Marek replied, his tone clipped. "Do you want to stand here arguing about it all night, or do you want to go stop it?"

Normally she would have started an argument, but the way he looked, the way he sounded so fed up and impatient -- a total change from his usual easy-going, flirty self -- had her holding her tongue for the moment. "Fine, but do you all have to go? I mean, it's the kids' party..."

Wesley looked more apologetic than any of them. "Unfortunately, yes. And it appears that we're going to need you to come as well."

"I....dammit," she sighed. "How long do we have? I mean, is there enough time to stay and sing Happy Birthday?" The question was primarily directed at Marek, who didn't hesitate in answering. "Yeah, we can do that."

After they'd let Gunn and Fred know what was going on, things got a little hectic. The giant sheet cake was present to the kids as everyone sang their best rendition of the traditional birthday song (Cordelia was later planning on asking Lorne to dish on any gossip he'd picked up on from the other moms and dads), after which there was a mad dash to change and grab the appropriate weapons without letting on to the guests. It had been decided that Lorne and Fred would stay behind, and Cordelia had talked Sheila into sticking around and helping out until they got back. And then finally, after kissing every one of the kids goodbye (something she made sure to do every time she left on a case), they were off.

Watching them hurry out of the building like their feet were on fire, Sheila turned to Fred curiously. "I thought you guys were just PIs. What kind of case could be so urgent that they'd leave their kids' birthday party?"

"Um, we're kind of private investigation-slash-security firm. When the hopeless call, we help them. And, um, they're usually really, really hopeless when they call."

"Should we be worried about them?"

"It helps to not think about it," Fred muttered, then brightened. "Hey, do you limbo?"

...................................................................................................................................................................

A/N: It seems to be taking longer and longer to get to the part where the kids are older. Chapter after next, I promise. Hopefully no one's too disappointed with how I handled the party. I've said it before -- I just cannot write kids.

Raph - no to both questions. I'm an only child with no kids, so I'm totally guessing here.


	13. ch 13

Sheila was worried, and the fact that no one else was confused her. That Lorne was still in costume two hours after the party had ended confused her too, but she didn't really dwell on that one. What she did dwell on was the fact that they had been gone for _hours_, and not even the children were questioning it. Every time Sheila came home from work, the babysitter would tell her the night's tally of 'when's mommy coming home?' questions from April.

Not the Chase kids, though. They'd barely noticed their parents' absence, and were currently involved in a cutthroat game of hide-and-seek. Cordelia's kids had incredible imaginations, she noticed, because their version of the game involved vampires and demons and something called Slayers. But when she took into account the fact that most of the decorations were real weapons, she wasn't really surprised by the violent tone of the game. She did, however, briefly wonder about the type of people Cordelia and her friends had to be to use real weapons as decorations at a kid's party.

"So, Fred, where did you guys get all these weapons?" She asked conversationally as she stuffed a wad of streamers into the garbage bag at her feet. Fred, who'd traded her elegant black dress for jeans and a sweater, glanced over from the growing pile of 'decorations' that she was pulling down from the wall. "Angel collects them. You should see some of the stuff he has."

"I assume he keeps them locked up."

"Of course. The kids aren't allowed to play with them until they're at least eight."

She said it so seriously that for a minute, Sheila didn't think she was joking. But she had to be, so Sheila laughed. Fred grinned and moved the conversation to a different topic. "You're a nurse, right? What's that like?"

"Crazy. I love it, though. What about you?"

"I'm actually a physicist, if you can believe it."

Sheila's brows skyrocketed at the information. "Really? What are you doing working at a PI firm then?"

"I was in a....a bad place for a long time, and Angel saved me, brought me back to the real world. So I just stayed," she added with a shrug before going back to cleaning. Sheila wondered what kind of bad place Fred was referring to. Drugs seemed the most logical explanation. If that's what it was, Shelia actually felt proud of the woman for kicking her habits. In her line of work she'd seen too many examples of what happened if an addict didn't stop, and it wasn't pretty. Realizing that an uncomfortable silence was settling over them, Sheila worked to salvage the conversation. "So, physicist, huh? Do you miss it?"

"Oh yeah. Nobody around here speaks geek, so I feel a little fish out of water-y sometimes. I've had a few of my papers published in some science magazines, though." As they continued to chat and clean, Sheila found that she genuinely liked Fred, possible drug history and all.

"Thanks so much for sticking around and cleaning up," Fred said as she tied up the last garbage bag. Sheila smiled and looked around the now virtually empty lounge. "No problem. We really should get going, though. I have to work tomorrow." Then, as they moved to the lobby to collect April, the last thing Sheila _ever_ expected to see happened.

Cordelia came marching through the door -- well, not so much marching as hobbling very quickly due to a limp -- using an honest-to-god _sword _as a cane. She looked dirty, tired, and injured if the limp and caked blood on her forehead was any indication. And she looked furious. Absolutely livid.

Sheila could only stare from where she'd stopped dead in her tracks, in the hallway just shy of actually being in the lobby. She had never in her life seen anything like the image Cordelia Chase presented outside of a movie. Fred, who'd gone ahead of Sheila, started forward. "How'd it go?"

Sheila continued to gape. How'd it go? _How did it go?! _That was all the woman had to say? Not 'jeez, Cordy, what happened?' or 'why do you look like you just got your ass handed to you on a plate?'.

Cordelia started to pace but stopped abruptly as she evidently remembered her injured ankle. "Oh, it went great," Cordelia began, apparently making up for her lack of mobility by raising her voice to nearly shouting. "We were outnumbered two to one, I twisted my ankle and nearly got my head cut off by one of those stupid demons-"

"Is everyone okay?" Fred broke in anxiously. "How are the guys? _Where _are the guys?" They still hadn't come in, and that worried her. When the gang went out on a case, they always returned together. Her worry was overruled by uncertainty as Cordelia's expression darkened even more. "They're just fine. Peachy. Probably on their way home by now."

"Um....huh?"

"I took a cab," Cordelia snapped. Fred didn't know quite how to react to that statement. She had never before seen Cordelia so mad -- sure, she'd heard stories of Queen C and her reign of terror during high school, but by the time she'd joined the gang, Cordy had apparently mellowed tremendously -- so this was a new, kind of scary experience for her.

"Cordy, what.....what _happened_? Why are you so angry?"

"You would not believe," she seethed and resumed pacing, ignoring the pain in her ankle. "What that sleazy blue bastard's done. I always knew we couldn't trust him. This just proves I was right."

Fred's stomach dropped. She had always liked Marek, and the idea of him doing something, anything, to break Cordelia's trust sent a wave of disappointment coursing through her. "What did he do?" She asked apprehensively. Before Cordelia could answer, the aforementioned sleazy blue bastard burst through the door.

"Cordelia."

He had stopped short at the sight of her and was now looking more unsure of himself than Fred had ever seen. At the look on Cordy's face, she actually backed up a few steps.

"Don't." Cordelia bit out. "Just stay the hell away from me!"

Now, Cordy routinely threw words like that at Marek, but never with such feeling. Fred didn't know if she should speak up or just ride it out in silence. Since Cordelia looked homicidal, Fred opted for the latter.

"Cordelia," Marek said again, a little desperately. "I'm sorry, okay? I should have told you."

That piqued Fred's interest, and she had to literally bite her tongue to stop herself from asking what he'd kept from her. When Cordy wordlessly turned and headed for the staircase, Marek didn't move, but called after her. "Don't run away. We need to talk about this." Whirling around, eyes blazing, she replied, "You want to talk? Fine. Explain to me why I should give you the time of day after what you did?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Fred noticed Angel, Wesley, and Gunn quietly coming in. Silently, she inched her way across the room to join them, strangely worried that if she caught their attention, it would end the show. "What happened?" She whispered as she reached them. The guys, like she, didn't take their eyes off the arguing duo. "Marek showed us another side of himself when we were rescuing the sacrifices," Gunn whispered back. "Cordy wasn't too happy about it."

Fred shot him a look. "Duh. Was it bad?"

"No," Wesley replied quietly, pensively staring at the blue demon. "Just surprising." They fell into silence after that to hear the rest of the fight. When Marek said, "I really think you're overreacting," they all winced. Of all the things he could have said, that was the stupidest. And judging by the _oh shit _look on his face, he knew it too.

"Overreacting? Are you _serious_? I am reacting exactly the way anyone would after finding out they've been lied to for four years!"

Fred's mouth formed a little 'O' of surprise and she shot a look at the guys. They were all too busy watching for Marek's response -- which was to bow his head slightly and sigh -- to see her silent question, though.

"I never lied to you," he said after a moment, sounding almost exasperated. "Don't give me that," Cordelia snarled. "You lied by omission."

"Bullshit," Marek snapped, causing Fred to jump at the abrupt change of tone. Cordelia herself looked mildly surprised, but managed to hold onto her ferocious glare as he continued on. "How much about you do I not know because you've kept it from me, hmm?"

"That's different!" She all but yelled.

"How?" He demanded immediately.

"Because! You shouldn't hide your-"

"Hey, kids. What's all the hubbub?"

Fred literally groaned as Lorne appeared at the top of the staircase. He had his hands resting in the pockets of his trousers, his suit jacket missing and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. He was casual and unassuming, and Fred cursed him where he stood. Of _course _he'd come in just when things were getting good.

"You want to know the hubbub, Lorne? Show him," she said to Marek, her tone so icy Fred felt a chill sweep down her spine. Despite it, she silently egged on Marek to reveal the big secret. When he sighed once more, Fred knew that he was going to do it -- whatever _it _was. Then he did it, and Fred's anticipation morphed into jaw-dropping shock.

He was human.

Or at least, he had a human side to go with his demon one. Forgetting herself completely, she moved to get a closer look at his new....look. The image he now presented was completely different than she could ever have imagined. He had very dark hair -- which was probably the weirdest considering how white it normally was -- and slightly olive skin. His features were still the same, but were somehow more pronounced without blue skin to overpower them. He wasn't classically handsome, but exuded a certain air of danger and mystery that many women would have found undeniably attractive.

But that wasn't what interested her right then. What held her attention was the fact that he managed to look determined, annoyed, and embarrassed all a the same time. And that he was staring Cordelia down defiantly. It was as if there was no one else in the room but her. "Happy now?" He asked softly, again as if they were alone in the room and not with a rather large audience.

Before Cordelia could respond, Lorne spoke up. "Well colour me shocked!" He didn't look at all affronted by the fact that Marek had been hiding this, and oddly enough Fred felt a distinct lack of anger beneath the surprise.

Cordelia only looked more angry, if it was possible. "How can you not be mad?" She demanded of them all, only to have her gaze avoided and half-hearted explanations offered up. "Fine," she bit out, incredulous. "Fine." And then she turned on her good heel and hobbled as fast as her limp would allow to shut herself into the office. Marek ignored the lot of them and followed her, managing to slip in behind her before the door slammed shut. There was a pregnant pause as everyone exchanged looks. After a moment's silence, Fred addressed the trio still standing on the landing. "So what happened?"

Wes and Gunn both started to tell the story, but Angel beat them to it. "Um, I think we have something else to deal with first." Fred glanced back over her shoulder to see what Angel was looking at, and caught her lip between her teeth. "Oh."

In all the excitement, she'd forgotten about Sheila.

She was a good deal paler and her eyes looked the size of dinner plates, but she hadn't run from the building shrieking, so Fred figured that things could have been worse. _Of course, she could be in shock..._

"I think," Sheila said calmly. "That I'm just going to go. You guys seem to have a lot on your plate right now, and-" She stopped suddenly, narrowing her eyes at Gunn. "Are you bleeding?" Startled, Gunn looked down at his shirt, where the upper right half was torn and a good deal darker than the rest of the forest green material. "It's nothing. Just a scratch."

"Please," she snorted. "Don't give me that macho crap. Come here, let me take a look at it."

"She's a nurse," Fred offered in a stage whisper.

Gunn nodded. "Okay. I can live with free medical attention." And in no time flat he was on the couch, stripped to the waist, while Sheila studied the gash with a practiced eye and barked orders for the first aid kit and some hot water. Just happy that she wasn't calling the cops on them, the guys complied with her requests. "You two are next," she said in what had to be her professional I'm-holding-the-needle-so-don't-argue-with-me voice. And neither Angel nor Wesley uttered a contrary peep.

"You know, Angel," Fred began thoughtfully. "If we're expanding the business, it might be a good idea to have a nurse or doctor or something on staff." As the three of them discussed the suggestion, Gunn regarded the woman bandaging his wound. "I'm pretty impressed that you're so cool with all of this."

Sheila offered a tiny smile. "Believe me, I'm freaking out on the inside. So," she said, taping the last piece of gauze. "Demons, huh?"

............................

As soon as the door clicked shut, Cordelia forgot her pride and collapsed into the chair, the pain in her ankle nearly overwhelming. Then she saw that she wasn't alone, and cursed at length.

"Can't I just get some goddamn privacy for once in my life? I told you to stay the hell away from me." She struggled to pull herself to her feet, but Marek gently pushed her back into her seat. "No. We're going to have this out."

"The hell we are. I have nothing to say to you."

He smirked at that. "That's a first." At the look on her face, he hastily sobered. "Look, I want to know why you're so upset about this. I just don't understand."

Cordelia looked at him, hard. He was still wearing his human face, and seeing it only fuelled her ire. Secretly, she didn't quite understand why she was so mad either -- all she knew was that when she'd seen him effortlessly slip from demon to man in order to calm down the group of street kids that were being held as sacrifices, something inside her had cracked and the anger had bubbled out, hot and fast.

Anger and the distinct feeling of betrayal. She felt betrayed that he hadn't cared enough to show her that part of himself, and it hurt. "How come you've kept it a secret?" She demanded instead of admitting any sort of feeling she was having that didn't include wanting to roast him over a spit.

"I didn't keep it a secret, I just never felt it necessary to tell you. I hardly ever use it."

Use it. Like his humanity was an old pair of skis that sat packed away in the basement, only pulled out for the bi-annual trips up to the mountain. He really did have no idea why she was upset, she realized, and felt some of her anger abate. Allowing her curiosity to get the better of her, she asked him why he preferred to use his demon face.

"My father's human," he said after a long moment. "He took off when I was nine."

It was all he had to say on the subject, but Cordelia understood perfectly. His father had hurt him terribly, and Marek didn't want to be anything at all like him. At that rather large revelation, much to her annoyance, she felt a little more anger ebb away.

But she didn't want it to go away, dammit! She _wanted _to be mad, to cloak herself in her anger, so she went on the offensive. "Okay, so you've got issues. Big deal. Don't you think it's about time you got over it?" When his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed, she knew she'd hit a nerve.

"You don't know-"

"A thing about you?" she cut in, raised a brow. "Imagine that."

He had the grace to look mildly defeated before the walls went up and his expression gave away nothing. "Fine," he said tonelessly. "What do you want to know? My life's an open book."

Now _that _was weird. But instead of dwelling on his cold tone, she jumped at the opportunity to finally get some answers. "Your name."

"What?" He hadn't been expecting that. It seemed so....unimportant.

"Is Marek your first name or your last name?"

And in that one sentence, Marek realized everything that Cordelia had been trying to say, why she was so angry. She didn't even know his _name_. Expelling the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, Marek raked a hand through his hair.

"Last. My first name's John."

She was incredulous. "John?" Despite his indignation, he preferred it to her being spitting mad. "Yes, John. Do you have a problem with that?"

"No. It's just so....ordinary. I was expecting something more demon-y. How old are you?"

"Thirty-one."

"Siblings?"

"One sister."

"What do you _really _do?"

He instinctively knew she was referring to his job, something he'd kept pretty mum about from the very beginning, and said, "Look, is this twenty questions or do you have something important to ask?" He said it with a smile to take the sting out of the words, and to hopefully not set her off again.

Falling silent as she processed his question, Cordelia studied him closely. Despite the human dad issues, he looked very comfortable in this new, different skin. He'd always possessed an easy sort of confidence, and apparently it didn't matter what he looked like for it to apply. He was completely different, though, and she didn't quite know what to do about it.

"I guess I don't," she said in response. "At least, not right now."

"Then can you just tell me one thing? Why were you _so_ mad? I mean, I can understand that you'd be upset, but I was kind of afraid you were going to come after me with that sword."

Against her will, she felt her lips curve up into a smile. "I was close, believe me. Look, I honestly don't know why, okay?"

"I don't know everything about your past," he pointed out.

"That's just it -- you don't know my past, but you know me _now_. I don't know you at all."

She didn't look mad anymore, just tired, but Marek hardly noticed as the truth she'd just spoken really hit home. "You know me better than you think," he said as she got to her feet.

"Do I?"

And with that she made her way slowly to the door, fixing him with one last look before shutting it behind her. It was an impressive exit, he had to admit. Dignified and a hell of a lot more effective than screaming and door-slamming. And it left him feeling like shit.

As Cordelia left Marek alone with his thoughts, her own were pointing towards a long, sleepless night. After everything that had been said and done that night, her feelings were more screwed up than ever. She was upset and betrayed, and the tiniest bit smug that she'd gotten the last word. But most of all she was confused. She wanted to hate him, but despite everything, despite all her negative feelings towards the dumb Smurf, the strongest ones were definitely not hate.

Problem was, she didn't have a damn clue what to do about it.

A/N: I'm not terribly pleased with the ending, but it's 2 a.m. and I'm tired, so that's what you get. Now for the question of the hour: do you want to see Marek remain in demon form, or do you want him to use his human face more often? Either way is cool for me -- it's totally up to you guys. Next chapter: kiddies finally get some screen time.


	14. ch 14

Five years later...

"We're moving."

An almost eerie silence settled over the room at the proclamation. Looking around the table, Cordelia was met with six horrified faces and one amused one. With a tiny glare for Angel (who'd won the coin toss, making her the one to have to tell the kids), she hurried to explain before the kids got over their shock and started protesting. "Look, I know this seems like bad news, but really it's not. You won't have to change schools and we'll actually live in a house." She finished her explanation with a cheery smile and waited with bated breath for their reactions. She didn't have to wait long. After a second more of silence, the kids replied as one.

"No!"

Cordelia frowned. Whenever they did the twin thing, it always freaked her out just a little. Inwardly she snorted at the thought. _I can face down a demon clan, but my own kids weird me out. _Recovering quickly, she said, "I'm sorry, guys, I know it sucks, but that's the way it is." There were a couple wails of "that's not fair!", more than one deadly glare, and one demand for an explanation.

"Why?" Caleb asked, very much horrified at the thought of leaving their beloved hotel. "And don't say just because you say so," Libby added, her dinner forgotten as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Because this place is an office, not a home. Besides, I -- we," she corrected, shooting a meaningful look at Angel. "We don't really feel that it's very safe for you to be living here anymore." Ever since they'd gone ahead with the expansion, business had climbed steadily, to the point where they'd had to hire more people. As a result, more people came in and out of the building daily, and somewhere along the way it had turned into a legitimate office as opposed to a casual home-slash-office.

"It is too!" Argued Darren.

"It's really not," Angel interjected in his don't-argue-with-me voice, memories of several bungled kidnappings and innumerable battles with demons right in the Hyperion's lobby flashing before his eyes. The kids knew that tone well and didn't argue, instead settling for mutinous glares for both of their parents.

"Where are we moving _to_?" Noah asked after a minute, ever the peacekeeper. Cordelia smiled fondly at her eldest son, silently thanking him for making an effort. "Beverly Hills?" Bridget piped up hopefully. Ever since she'd visited a friend from soccer who lived in Beverly Hills, she'd been obsessed with the area. She'd told her family the next day, in a very matter of fact tone, that she was going to live there one day. "I wish." Cordelia snorted. For the better part of her life, living in Beverly Hills had been one of her greatest ambitions. "No, we're staying in Hollywood. Angel and I found this great place not that far from here. We'll take you to see it this weekend."

Libby, regaining interest in her dinner, reached for a piece of corn. "When are we moving?"

"The end of June, after you guys finish school. Speaking of school, are you-"

"Do we get our own rooms?" Bridget demanded, cutting her mother off. Cordelia inwardly sighed as all six waited expectantly. This, she knew, would be especially hard for them to swallow -- they'd all had their own rooms since birth. "No, not all of you. Look, guys, I'm sorry," She said, over the din of more protestation. "But it's a five-bedroom house. I get one, Angel gets the basement. That leaves four for you guys, so only two of you get your own room. Which," she added sharply, growing tired of the attitude she was getting from her children. "Will be your decision. If you can't work it out before we move, I decide."

"That's _so _not fair!" Bridget shouted indignantly. Cordelia knew that if her daughter had been standing, she'd have stamped her foot. Now completely fed up with the arguments, Cordelia regarded the group coolly. "That may be, but we're doing it whether you like it or not. Just be grateful that it's not three to a room -- the only reason we got the house we did was because it was haunted and the owner gave us a great deal." The karma gods had been smiling on them that day. It was pure luck that they'd stumbled across the great old manor that had been both for sale and haunted. Not only did they get the case, but they'd gotten the house too.

"Cordy..." Angel said warningly, to which she rolled her eyes. "Please, Angel. They're not afraid of a little ghost." Frowning at that, he said, "Can I talk to you for a minute?" And without waiting for a response, he pushed back his chair and headed out into the hallway. Briefly entertaining the idea of just leaving him out there to stew, she waited a minute before sighing in exasperation and moving to join him.

"Angel, you're overreacting a bit here. They've seen a lot worse than a ghost."

"That's not what I meant. You need to cut them some slack, Cordy. Their lives are being upheaved and you aren't giving them any time to adjust."

"It's not _that _big an adjustment!"

"Not for you," he agreed, though sternly. "But they're just kids."

"I-"

"They're ten, Cordy. Not thirty. Let them be mad."

Chastised, she nodded. "You're right. I suppose I should just look on the bright side."

"What's that?"

She smirked. "If my parents had done this to me at their age, I'd have thrown the mother of all tantrums. That times six? It'd be-"

"Hell." Angel teased, pretending to be horrified at the thought. At least, she thought he was pretending. "Worse than Hell. I've been there, I should know."

"Hey!" She smacked him on the arm, smiled. "Just for that, you have to give them the sex talk." This time he truly was horrified. "But don't they already-"

"Yeah, they know the mechanics of it, but we both know that's not the most important part." As he blanched, she laughed and left him alone with the thought. When she returned to the dining room, all conversations ceased. Instantly, she became suspicious. "What's going on?" She asked slowly, accusingly. When Libby leaned forward on her elbows, Cordelia was surprised -- not that she was getting an answer, but that it was Libby who was giving it. Usually Ivy was the mouthpiece of the group, or at the very least Noah.

"We were just discussing this whole moving thing, and we have a real problem with it."

Cordelia worked overtime to hide her smile. No matter what Angel said about them being only ten, she still reserved judgement for moments like this. But then, Libby had always been fairly articulate. "Really," she replied, still working hard to maintain her serious facade. "I hadn't noticed." At the sarcastic retort, Libby's gaze frosted over, and Cordelia's tenuous control over her mirth was tested once again. That look was all Queen C, with a little bit of pissed-off Wesley thrown in. If she weren't a ten-year-old or Cordelia's own daughter, the look could have been intimidating. Remembering Angel's advice to cut them some slack, she asked for an explanation.

"Well, we just don't think it's fair of you to tell us we have to move only a month before it's going to happen. We don't think it's fair that it's happening at all."

Ten going on thirty, definitely. "I know it's not fair, and I know it sucks, but that's how life is sometimes." She said it as gently as she could manage, hoping to cushion the blow of the little life lesson.

"That's bullshit!" Ivy, who'd been silent since the announcement had been made, burst out. Angel, who'd come in just in time to hear Ivy's proclamation, was shocked speechless, scandalized by his little girl's use of such language. Cordelia, however, wasn't all that surprised. She'd heard the kids when they thought no one was around; she'd heard the language that was used on their school playground. "We don't _want _to move!" Her irate daughter continued, oblivious to or merely ignoring the elephant in the room that her use of the word 'shit' had created. Having learned how to pick her battles over the years, Cordelia decided to ignore it for the moment, though her tone once again cooled. "Well that's just too bad. When you're an adult you can do what you want, but for now you do what I say."

Inwardly she winced at the use of such a parental cliche, then decided she had better get used to them. _If this is what she's like at ten, just wait until she's sixteen. Until they're **all **sixteen. _When Ivy jumped out of her seat and yelled, "I hate you!" before racing out of the room past a thoroughly dismayed Angel, Cordelia grimaced.

"Lord, it's starting already."

........................................

"Hey, mom. Need some help?"

Cordelia looked up from the pile of clothes she was sorting to see Noah standing in the doorway. With a smile, she waved him in. "Sure. I'm just going through my closet." There was less than two weeks until the move, and she'd been so busy dealing with the kids' stuff that she was only just now getting around to her own. Motioning to the mountain of shoeboxes in the bottom of said closet, she said, "Why don't you sort through those. Put the ones with shoes in one pile, everything else in another. So," she said once he'd settled himself on the floor to get to work. "Where are your friends today?"

"Sam's grounded, Russ is at a funeral, and Mia has to visit her grandma." Came the reply as he flipped open the lid of the first box.

"Oh. What about your brothers and sisters?"

Noah shrugged, adding another two boxes to the shoe pile. "They're around." Apparently that was all he had to say on the subject as he fell into silence and continued picking through the boxes. Pausing in her own sorting, Cordelia just watched her son for a moment. Of the six of them, Noah was the only one who really liked spending time with her these days. The others were either more attached to one of the other adults or simply more concerned with doing their own thing to care about hanging around their mom. Not that she minded much, though. For the first nine years of their lives, she'd been stretched incredibly thin, having to deal with all six kids, Angel and Wes and the rest of the Fang Gang drama, not to mention the business. It was about time she got a chance to relax and not worry so much. They continued in such companionable silence that Cordelia actually forgot Noah was there for great stretches of time. It was as she was deliberating over which of two blouses to keep that Noah spoke up, and thus she was reminded of his presence.

"Is he our dad?"

The question was so unexpected that she wasn't sure she'd heard right. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Him," Noah said patiently, holding up a photograph. "Is he our dad?" Apparently he'd stumbled across a box that she'd filled with photos -- one she'd completely forgotten about. The dark-haired man in the picture was neither Angel nor Wes, and stirred up long dormant feelings of sadness, regret, and simpler times. Taking the picture from Noah's hand, Cordelia smiled fondly at the image of Doyle's cheerful smile and twinkling eyes. She'd taken it randomly when she'd had some extra shots leftover on the film, and looking at it now made her glad for the impulse.

"Well?" Noah pressed, noting his mother's expression.

"What? No! No, he's not your father. Why do you ask?"

Noah shrugged. "We look like him."

"Not really. Actually, you kind of do," she amended after studying the photo a little more closely. The resemblance was there in the colouring, though Doyle's features were a little softer than her boys'. _What I wouldn't give to have had him be their father instead of the scum that is. _The thought was quick and somewhat unexpected, but not untrue. Doyle had been one of the best people she'd ever met, and if she could have chosen, he would have been one of her top choices to father her kids (even if they'd never been more than friends). Shaking her head, she smirked. If he could hear her now.....

"Mom?"

Snapped out of her trip down memory lane, Cordy glanced down at her perplexed son. "Huh?" She said dumbly. Noah's expression only grew more quizzical as he replied, "I said, who is he?"

"He's an old friend of mine and Angel's. We used to work together before you were born."

"What happened to him?"

"He died," she said softly, once again drawn to the photo. "He sacrificed himself to save more people than you can imagine." Noah mulled the tidbit of information over, and she could practically see the wheels turning in his head. "So he was a hero." His tone was matter of fact; his own 'I know I'm right so don't argue with me' voice.

"One of the greatest I've ever known."

"Where was that taken?" Abruptly changing the subject, Noah scrutinized the picture. It wasn't any place he recognized, and he was always interested in hearing about his mom's life pre-kids. "That's our old office. It got blown up." It rarely occurred to Cordelia to censor herself for the sake of her innocent children -- something Angel was on her about constantly -- and this time was no exception.

"Was that before we were born, too?"

"Nope. Luckily you guys were all at my apartment at the time."

"Oh." He fell silent again and studied the picture. Cordelia recognized the look on her son's face well. He was in his patented contemplation mode, and could remain there for longer stretches of time than even Angel. "So.... if he's not our dad, who is?"

At the question, Cordelia sucked in a breath and sat heavily on the edge of the bed. She'd been waiting for this question for years, ever since the children asked why they had two dads. Seeing the mix of naked concern and curiosity on her son's face, Cordelia was suddenly glad it was Noah who'd been the one to ask.

How do I handle this?

Taking a deep, calming breath, Cordelia decided that the only way she would be able to do it would be to just dive right in. "Okay.... do you know what I mean by biological father?" Noah nodded and Cordelia felt some of the weight lift off her shoulders. That saved a lot of explaining. "Good. Well, your biological father only helped make you. Other than that, we can't even call him a father. A real dad is someone who-"

"I know _that_," Noah interrupted, his voice tinged with impatience. "I meant _who _is our father? Like, what's his name?"

"Oh. Why do you want to know?"

Noah's small shoulders jerked in a shrug. "I dunno. Just curious I guess. Besides, he's my dad, right? I should know who he is."

"He is _not _your dad," she bit out immediately, he vehemence causing Noah to blink in surprise. "He is just a sperm donor. Angel and Wes are your dads, and you should count yourself lucky for that. Not many kids get to have two great fathers in their lives." Realizing how harsh she must have sounded to her ten-year-old son, Cordelia softened her expression. "I'm sorry, honey. I just don't think it's important for you to know right now, okay?"

Noah frowned. It was not _okay_. He knew that Angel and Wesley were his fathers, but the others had enlisted him to find out the identity of their natural father, knowing that he was the one their mother was most likely to open up to. Plus, after the reaction his mom just had, he was suddenly really curious. But even at ten, he was adept enough to realize that he wouldn't get any more out of her today. "I guess so," he replied agreeably, already planning his next move. Smiling brilliantly, his mom wrapped her arms around him.

"Thank you for understanding, hon. I just-"

Whatever she was about to say was cut off by the sound of Bridget yelling for someone to come help. Ivy's name was thrown in, and Cordelia was out the door in an instant. Alone in the room, Noah scooped up the box of photos, ignoring the twinge of guilt. He loved his mother more than anything in the world, but finding out where he and his siblings came from was just more important.

........................................

"I dare you."

Ten-year-old Ivy looked from her grinning brother to the staircase and back again. Riding her bike down the stairs would most likely wind up in her getting hurt _and _grounded, but Ivy Chase was never one to turn down a dare -- and her brother knew it. "Help me carry it up," she instructed by way of agreement. She raced off to the playroom where the bikes and rollerblades and all their other stuff was stored, mounted hers, helmet slung over the handlebars, and rode it back to where Darren was waiting. Together they hefted it to their shoulders and brought it up the stairs.

"Ready?" Darren asked when he reached the bottom again, the anticipation making his voice quiver. Watching Ivy do something stupid and dangerous always made his day.

Tightening her long ponytail and adjusting her helmet, she cast a quick glance around. The lobby was empty for the moment, what with everybody busy packing, but she knew she only had a brief window of time to pull it off. "Ready!" she called and took a deep breath to psyche herself up. Gripping the handlebars tightly, she uttered one last silent prayer and started to push down on the pedal.

"Ivy!"

Slamming on the brakes, Ivy whipped her head around to glare at her sister, who'd come out of nowhere. "What?" she snapped. Bridget glared right back, arms folded across her chest. "You are going to get in so much trouble!"

"Not if you keep your mouth shut."

"Get lost, Bee." Darren called from his spot at the bottom, his frustration obvious. "Do it, Ivy!" That was all the encouragement she needed, and with one last glare for her know-it-all sister, she pushed off.

The ride down was bumpy, slightly terrifying, and ended far too quickly when she lost control at the bottom and landed in a heap on the floor next to her mangled bicycle. Through the rush of pure adrenaline, she felt a searing pain in her right arm. Darren's face instantly appeared in her line of sight. "How was it?"

In the background she heard Bridget yelling for any one of the adults within hearing distance.

She smiled shakily. "It was awesome."

He grinned back. "It looked awesome."

And then the cavalry arrived in the form of her mother. She looked sick with worry -- a look that Ivy was well accustomed to. Half the time that was the only look she got from her mom. "Are you hurt?" Cordelia demanded, her voice calm but thick with fear and, Ivy knew, exasperation. She was definitely gonna get grounded for this one.

But that was nothing new.

"My arm," she said and knew -- with the confidence that only someone who routinely got herself into situations that resulted in injury could -- that it was broken.

Cordelia sighed and instructed Darren to fetch the ice pack. She carefully unhooked Ivy's helmet and removed it, brushing back her daughter's bangs to kiss her forehead. She could see the pain in Ivy's beautiful green eyes, and sighed once again. Most kids her age would have been in tears, but not Ivy. She just lay there calmly, waiting for the ice and no doubt for her punishment. Being the daredevil that she was, Ivy had had a lot of experience -- too much, in Cordelia's opinion -- with this sort of thing.

"Honey, you have _got _to stop this. You're going to-"

"Get myself killed, I know."

Despite the fact that Cordelia's heart rate was just now returning to normal, she laughed. Ivy knew the speech by heart, having heard it often enough. "Actually, I was going to say that you're going to kill _me. _Every time you do something like this you take about ten years off my life."

"How?" she asked, wincing when Cordelia gently applied the ice pack to her swelling arm. Helping her daughter to her feet, Cordelia explained. "Ever heard of someone being scared to death? Well, that's what'll happen."

"Will not," Ivy countered. "You can't die from being scared."

"Yes you can," Bridget replied loftily, having made her way down to get a closer look. "Fear can induce a heart attack."

Ivy rolled her eyes. "Shut up, brainiac."

"Enough," Cordelia instructed, heading off the inevitable argument. Ivy was going to live, so she could stop worrying. "Bridget, go tell your dad that I'm taking Ivy to the hospital." Bridget sneered at Ivy once more before jogging up the stairs. Cordelia fetched her purse from behind the desk and ushered Ivy out the door quickly, hoping to avoid Angel. If they were still around when he found out what had happened, he would have just made the situation a whole lot more difficult than it needed to be with his smothering concern.

"Hey, mom," Ivy said hesitantly. "I'm grounded, aren't I?"

"Oh honey," Cordelia replied, giving her daughter a one-armed hug. "Of course you are."

.........................

Wesley was ridiculously happy, and the stupid grin he couldn't get off his face broadcasted that fact to anyone within twenty yards of him -- including his pregnant and irritable wife, who was sitting mere feet away at her own desk in the office they shared. "Stop it," Fred ordered, glancing up at him over the rim of her glasses. "I have a mountain of work to do, and since I have to pee every five minutes, I don't need another distraction."

Of course, that only made him grin wider. "I can't help it. You're just so... amazing."

With a roll of her eyes, Fred dismissed the comment. "Oh, please."

"You are," Wesley pressed, egged on by the slight curving of her lips. Seven months of pregnancy hadn't slowed her down at all. If anything, it had caused her to work harder to get as much done as she could before going on maternity leave from the job she'd taken working as a physicist. It had been two years to the day that they'd wed that Fred had discovered she was pregnant. The emotion that had hit him that day had been staggering. He loved the sextuplets with all of his being, but there had been something different about the idea of creating and sharing a child with the love of his life.

After that, everything came together. With the new and improved AI taking off, increasing his income, and Fred's new job paying twice what she'd earned at the old one, they'd been able to afford a wonderful little house in the suburbs. Now, with the baby on the way, all they were missing was a dog.

Life was perfect, he couldn't help but think as he turned his attention back to the paint swatches scattered across his desk. Absolutely perfect.

And then the phone rang.

"Ivy did what?" He asked into the receiver, pulling off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. "Good lord, is she all right? Was she wearing a helmet at least? Well, small miracles I suppose," he said with a mirthless laugh. "Yes. We'll be there soon." Replacing the receiver in the cradle, he slid his glasses back on and looked to Fred. "Ivy broke her arm. I'll explain on the way."

Perfect life, indeed.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Eeek..... okay, don't hate me for handling the transition this way. If you think it's terrible, I'll understand why. In my defence, I was getting bored with five-year-old stage and felt it necessary to move on. There are some things I really liked in this chapter, others I really didn't. Either way, it's what you get.

Next chapter: any missing players in this one will be addressed.


	15. ch 15

She sat in the car for five full minutes before even turning the ignition off. After she'd done that, she sat there for another five just looking. The house was lovely, a large old dove-gray manor with a wraparound porch and a swing, set back from the street on a large bit of property with a great maple tree in the front. The yard looked a bit overgrown, but there were signs of someone trying to tame it.

_Probably not Cordelia,_ she thought. Her daughter had been known to throw out a brand new pair of shoes for getting a bit of dirt on them. But then, Cordelia had to have changed in some ways over the years. With a sigh, Constance Chase patted her hair and touched up her lipstick in the rear view mirror before finally getting out of the car. Clutching the strap of her purse tightly, she crossed the street and started up the long drive. Passing a yellow jeep -- a vehicle that was incredibly _un_-Cordelia -- a seed of doubt planted itself in Constance's mind about whether or not this was even the right house. The pair of small bicycles propped up next to the garage only strengthened that doubt. It had never occurred to her that Cordelia might have children. She was thirty-years-old, true, but the idea was so ludicrous that Constance dismissed it immediately.

Still, this was the address that she'd spent weeks tracking down, and she'd be damned if she walked away merely because she doubted it was the right place. Taking one last deep breath to steel her nerves, she rang the bell. It seemed like an eternity before she saw movement through the fogged glass on the door before it was wrenched open and she was met with a sight she hadn't seen in a decade: her daughter.

Her hair was shoulder length now, and she was wearing jeans and flip-flops, but other than that, Cordelia looked almost exactly as Constance remembered her. Of course, her face was a bit more mature, and her eyes held a look (not including surprise) that Constance didn't quite know how to describe. "Hello Cordelia," she said, smiling nervously. Her daughter gaped for a second longer before remembering that she was holding the phone. "I have to go," she said into the receiver and ended the call.

"What are you doing here?" Cordelia demanded, the pure shock in her tone overriding the malice.

"What do you _think _I'm doing here?"

"I've talked to you exactly once in ten years, Mother. What do you expect me to think?" This time her tone was complete acid. Constance winced. "I suppose I deserved that. Look, that whole tax matter's finally been cleared up, so I came as soon as I could. Of course, it took me awhile to track you down. Anyway, I'm here to see you, darling."

Raising a brow into a look that Constance well remembered, Cordelia crossed her arms across her chest. "Uh huh. What about Daddy?"

"Your father and I have been separated for awhile, though we've only just filed for divorce."

After a moment, Cordelia sighed. "I guess you may as well come in." At that Constance inwardly breathed easier. She'd been worried that her daughter would slam the door in her face. Stepping in the entryway, she noted that the interior was simple, tasteful, and warm. Following Cordelia down the hallway, she peeked into open rooms along the way, including a family room, dining room, and washroom. They ended up in the kitchen, which was quite large and overlooked an expansive backyard. There were papers and catalogues scattered over the breakfast table where Constance took a seat, and she couldn't help but notice the wedding theme among them.

"Are you getting married?" She asked before she could stop herself. Looking up from the coffee she was pouring, Cordelia glanced at the table. "No, I'm throwing an engagement party for friends of mine."

"Ah. So...are you married?"

"No."

"Oh." The silence that followed was incredibly uncomfortable to Constance, though she suspected Cordelia was enjoying her discomfort. Taking the offered mug, she sipped and stifled a grimace. The coffee wasn't bad in itself, but compared to what she'd been drinking for the past decade, it was terrible. Finally, after the silence had nearly become unbearable, Cordelia spoke.

"Where have you been all this time?"

"Europe. Paris for the last few years since the separation."

"And you didn't call because...?"

This was a question that Constance had been asking herself since the day she'd arrived in LA, and still she didn't have an answer that she liked. When it came right down to it, she'd abandoned Cordelia because motherhood had never really agreed with her -- not that she'd ever admit that aloud, of course. "I don't think any reason I give you will be what you want to hear, darling. I can only say that I'm sorry."

With a very unladylike snort, Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Please. Besides, it's not like you were there for me even when you _were _there. I want to know why you decided to throw yourself back into my life _now_. Crisis of conscience?"

She hated her daughter's tone of voice and bad attitude and desperately wanted to tell her to correct it, but the fact that Cordelia was an adult and that this was her house (not to mention that she totally deserved it) had Constance curbing her tongue. "If you wish to look at it like that, I suppose. I really have missed you, Cordelia. I wanted to have you in my life again."

"Well how nice for you," Cordelia snapped, and Constance then realized her poor choice of wording. "In case you hadn't noticed, Mother, I have a life of my own that hasn't included you for ten years."

"And I want to know about it!" Constance pleaded. Ever since she and Richard had separated, she'd become lonely for family. Finally she'd given up on pride and made the decision to look her daughter up. "Please, Cordelia. Tell me about yourself, tell me anything."

"Such as?"

"Anything. Your job -- what do you do?" Until that moment, Constance hadn't realized how desperately she wanted to know event the smallest detail about her child's life. For a moment it looked like Cordelia was about to tell her no, but then apparently changed her mind and started to answer. Before she could get a word out, however, they were interrupted by the sound of the front door banging open.

"Mom!" A young voice shouted gleefully. "Mom, guess what!" And seconds later, a young girl skidded to a stop mere feet from where Constance sat. Shocked to the core, she could only stare at the child who, apparently, was her granddaughter. She was a very lovely girl with wide green eyes and curling dark hair just past her shoulders. Her age was difficult to peg, but she looked a bit too old to be Cordelia's child. Still, their relationship was obvious. Shrugging off her pink backpack, the girl looked at Constance quizzically. "Hi," she said, then glanced at her mother.

_Good lord. Cordelia **does **have children._ Somehow the thought was impossible for Constance to grasp, and all she could do was continue to stare. Cordelia didn't seem at all perturbed by the situation, and introduced them. "This is Bridget," she said. "Bridget, this is Constance. My....mother."

Bridget didn't smile so much as she did fix Constance with a look so scrutinizing that it had her nearly squirming in her seat. "So you're my grandma?"

"Yes, I suppose I am."

Bridget narrowed her eyes once more. "Oh." Then, as if nothing completely life-altering had happened, she turned back to her mother. "Guess what happened today!" Cordelia softened immensely toward her child and grinned. "What?"

"They want to send me to this school for gifted kids! Here-" she thrust an envelope into Cordelia's hand. "That's from the principal. He and my teachers think that their curriculum's holding me back and they think I should go to this school Ferncliff and-"

"Bee, calm down! I mean, that's wonderful, but take a breather!"

Constance watched as Cordelia tore into the envelope and scanned the letter while Bridget waited anxiously. Even though her mind was close to bursting, all she could think of at that moment was that her granddaughter was gifted. The fact that she had a grandchild at all still hadn't sunk in, but pride for her was already welling up.

"All right," Cordelia stuffed the letter back in the envelope. "I'll discuss it with Angel and Wes and we'll meet with your principal, but as of right now, I don't see any problem with it." Bridget squealed and threw her arms around Cordelia, who laughed and squeezed her daughter back. "Where are the others?" She asked, and it was a question that had Constance leaning in just a bit to hear.

"Still coming. I ran all the way from the bus stop," she explained. "Oh, but Caleb has basketball tryouts and Ivy got detention-"

"Again?" Cordelia admonished. "It's the second week of school!" Bridget shrugged. "What do you expect? It's _Ivy. _Anyway, I'm going to do my homework." She grinned and squealed again. "Oh, I can't wait to tell Daddy!" And then as quickly as she'd come in, Bridget was gone again and thundering up the stairs.

Constance opened her mouth to say something but couldn't find the words. Instead she looked at her daughter imploringly. Cordelia sighed and got to her feet. "Come with me," she instructed and didn't wait to see if her order was being followed. They ended up in the family room where signs of children were obvious by the videogame system hooked up to the television and a few toys and shoes strewn about the room. The biggest tip-off was the large photo hanging over the mantle. In it was Cordelia, two dark haired men, and six -- _six! _-- children. Bridget she recognized from the curly hair, but there were two other girls identical to her aside from the haircuts. The three boys were nearly indistinguishable from one another. Looking at the photo, Constance suddenly felt light-headed and sat on the nearest surface, which happened to be the coffee table.

"Oh.... wow."

Cordelia suddenly laughed, startling her. "I don't think I have _ever _heard you use the word 'wow' before."

"I don't think there's anything else I can say." She paused. "I have so many questions-"

"Well, yeah, I figured as much. Look, they'll be here any minute and I'd like to give them a little bit of warning before they meet you. Why don't you meet me for lunch tomorrow and we'll discuss it."

There was nothing Constance wouldn't do if it meant she'd get a chance at having a family again, so she agreed immediately and gave Cordelia her cell phone number. "Call me this evening," she instructed as her daughter showed her to the door. "Cordelia, I'd just like to know their names. The other three."

"Libby, Noah, and Darren. I'll talk to you later, Mother."

And with that she gently closed the door. Constance headed down the long drive, her mind working overtime trying to process even the smallest thing she had learned today. With each thought, ten new questions popped up. How old were they? Which man in the photo was their father? How on earth had Cordelia had sextuplets? Multiples didn't run in the family. The list was endless, and Constance was suddenly grateful to be going to lunch with her daughter. She'd ask them all then. In the meantime, she had a _lot _of thinking to do. Not to mention she'd have to get a hold of Richard, and-

Her train of thought was cut off as she noticed the other three children cutting across the lawn to get up to the house. They were beautiful. They were her grandchildren. Good lord, she had half-grown grandchildren at fifty-four. Shaking her head in disbelief, she pulled away from the curb. If only her friends from Europe could see her now -- they believed she was ten years younger.

At least, that's what she liked to think.

* * *

A/N: It's been awhile since I last posted, I know, but I lose interest in my stuff a lot. Anyway, this is short, and I intended to add more, but decided what I was writing wasn't working, so this is all ya get. Hopefully this means a rekindling of my interest in Supermom. 


	16. ch 16

Angel had barely walked through the door and he could already sense the tension. Hard not to, it being practically palpable. He could hear Cordelia in the kitchen talking to someone while various smells drifted down the hallway towards him. _Oh, right,_ he remembered. _Dinner with her mother tonight. _She'd sprung it on him only that morning as he already had one foot out the door. He hadn't even known her mother was back in town, let alone in contact with Cordelia, but the sun was already peeking over the horizon when she'd mentioned it to him so he figured it'd have to wait until after work.

Well, it was after work, and he suddenly wanted some answers.

"Cordy," he said, marching into the kitchen to find Cordelia amidst a stovetop covered in pots and piles of food strewn about the countertop. It looked like chaos, but he knew that she had a carefully organized system borne of years of practise. And she was talking to herself. Arguing, actually, which she stopped at the sight of him. "It's about time," she snapped, glaring. Suddenly he wished there'd been something, anything, to keep him at work just a while longer, because now that he was home, it was obvious that she was going to target all her pent-up frustration at him.

"Cordy," he said again, this time much calmer. After over ten years of friendship, he'd come to know all the ins and outs to diffusing her temper. Most of the time, just being calm and letting her get it out was the best way to get it over quickly. "Your mother?"

It was all he had to say to get her to open up about everything: how her mother had shown up unexpectedly, how they'd had lunch the day before, how Cordelia had invited her mother over for dinner on a whim. "Why didn't you tell me?" He asked once she'd finished. With a sigh that he knew signified the dissipation of her anger, she stopped chopping vegetables, looked at him a little sheepishly and shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I just didn't know what to say. I mean, my mother shows up after ten years out of the blue wanting back in my life? What the hell was I supposed to say?" He smiled wryly. "That? Cordy, you know that I'm on your side no matter what, right?"

She nodded, resumed chopping.

"I just don't get one thing.... why are you letting her?"

"What, back into my life?"

"Yeah."

Into the salad bowl went the vegetables. "I have no clue. Maybe I wanted to show her that I did better on my own than when I was with her. Hell," she added with a snort. "Maybe I just want to scare the crap out of her so she'll run back to Paris for another decade." Despite her sarcasm and bravado, Angel knew she was desperately confused; he could see it in her eyes, in the very way she moved. Reaching across the counter, he grasped one of her hands in his own. "I love you, Cordy. I'll do whatever you need." With a smile, she squeezed his hand back. "I love you, too, Angel. If I need you to go all vampy on her, I'll give you a signal."

They both laughed at that, clearing away the rest of the tension. Much more at ease, she took a stack of plates from the cupboard and wordlessly handed them to Angel, who started laying out the table. "I'm surprised none of the kids spilled," she commented, stirring a pot. Pausing, Angel glanced up, surprised. "They know?"

"Yeah, she was here when Bridget came home from school on Tuesday, so of course the rest of them knew before dinner."

"How'd she handle it?" He asked, referring to his daughter.

"Fine, but that was the day she got the letter about Ferncliff, so I doubt my mother was the foremost thing on her mind. Constance nearly had a cow though. That was pretty good."

He figured Constance was her mother's name, so didn't bother to ask. And while the thought of Bridget getting into the prestigious private school had him grinning uncontrollably, he briefly wondered how he hadn't heard the news before now. "I haven't really seen the kids the last couple of days," he said, answering the question for the both of them. He'd worked from dawn until well past their bedtimes every day that week, so he hadn't had the chance to really speak with the kids at all. As he was about to say more, he heard the front door open and a 'hello' called out. "We're in here!" Cordelia called back, and Wes and Fred appeared a moment later, their hair dripping wet. "It's really coming down out there," Fred commented as she set the baby carrier on the floor. "Pathetic fallacy," Cordelia muttered darkly before coming around the counter. As she neared the baby her entire demeanour changed. All smiles now, she crouched down to get a look at month-old Chris, who was out like a light. "How long's he been out?"

Fred, beaming, replied, "He passed out the second we put him in the car. Thank god."

"He not been sleeping?"

"He's just getting into a schedule. Finally."

Cordelia smiled sympathetically. "I don't envy you."

This time Wesley spoke up, "Compared to the six, having one is a cakewalk."

"You love it," Angel said with a grin, which Wesley returned gleefully. "Absolutely."

Gathering up the carrier, Fred headed for the stairs. "I'm just going to put him in your room."

As Fred disappeared Wesley got down to business. "What does your mother know?"

"Just the basics. I got pregnant at nineteen, the father wasn't in the picture, you guys stepped in."

Helping himself to a beer, Wes thought for a moment. "She knows nothing about...?"

"Nope," Cordelia confirmed. "Not a single thing. And we're not going to tell her. I've already gone over everything with the kids."

"And if they accidentally say something?" Angel interjected. Cordelia shrugged. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." The doorbell rang suddenly, and the three of them exchanged looks. Finally Cordelia moved to answer the door. "Showtime," she muttered.

* * *

By the time dessert came around, Angel finally let himself relax. The dinner hadn't gone too terribly, there being only a few minor glitches and awkward moments. He'd really wanted the evening to go well for Cordelia's sake, and had tried his best to make that happen, even when Constance had made a crack about their three-parent system. The kids, too, had been on their best behaviour -- none of them had said anything incriminating, and aside from absolutely drilling her for details on her life, had completely charmed their newfound grandmother. 

At the moment, Wesley and Constance were engaged in a discussion about Paris, so he took the time to observe. He hadn't really known what to expect in Cordelia's mother -- in all the years he'd known her, Cordelia had mentioned her parents only a handful of times. He'd gotten the impression that her pre-LA family life was a sore spot for her and had respected her privacy by not bringing it up. When he caught her eye across the table, she sent him a small smile. He smiled back reassuringly. When she got up to get coffee, he followed under the guise of helping, but really to talk to her privately.

"How are you doing?" He asked quietly while loading coffee cups onto the small tray. Cordelia glanced back at the table where Constance was regaling the children with tales of life in Europe. "I'm okay, actually. Things aren't going as horribly as I expected." Angel followed her gaze. "The kids seem to like her." When Cordy frowned at that, he asked what was on her mind. Filling the mugs with coffee, she shrugged. "I kind of don't want them to like her. Things shouldn't be that easy for her." She paused and stared at her mother, her expression unreadable. "What do you think of her?"

What _did _he think of her? Physically, she was attractive in an understated, old money and good breeding sort of way with dark blonde hair, warm brown eyes, and a figure she undoubtedly worked hard to keep trim. At one point, she might have even been considered his 'type', but in the last few years he'd found his tastes running towards brunettes. Appearance aside, he found Constance Chase to be condescending and self-absorbed, but genuinely trying to make an effort to be back in her daughter's life. All he said, though, was, "She's trying."

"Don't give me that. Tell me what you _really _think, Angel."

Luckily he was saved from answering when Wesley asked about the coffee. Gathering up the tray, Cordy headed back to the table. "It's right here," she replied irritably. "Keep your pants on."

Out of habit, Angel stood back a minute to just watch. Most of the kids looked bored, save for Caleb who was eyeing baby Chris (who sat in his mother's lap) with distaste. Wesley actually seemed interested in what Constance had to say, or at least pretended well enough that he was. However none of them were his concern at the moment, Cordelia was. She was still tense; he could see it in her stiff posture, and looked agitated. He knew she wouldn't relax at all until her mother was safely out the door and decided that he'd hint at wrapping the evening up in another half an hour or so. When Constance made a remark about what the old Cordelia would think of her life now, Angel changed his plan to wrapping it up in fifteen minutes and insisting Cordy lock herself in the bathroom for an hour with a glass of wine and a bubble bath.

"Angel!" Constance said abruptly, startling him out of his thoughts. "Come join us." He obliged, taking the seat next to Cordelia that Wes had abandoned to sit closer to Fred and his son. "So how did you and Cordelia meet?" Constance asked, looking him straight in the eye in a way that reminded him very much of Cordy. "We met back in Sunnydale," he explained guardedly, trying to figure out what she was thinking. "You never mentioned him," She said to her daughter, who raised a brow. "If I recall, that was the year you were drying out."

"There's no need to be dredging up the past, darling," Constance replied icily.

"Hey, you started the conversation. When do you recall me _ever _mentioning my friends to you?"

"Cordelia, you're being dramatic."

"Please, Mother. Can you name _one_ my friends from high school?"

At that, Constance looked smug. "That ditzy girl- Harmony. Whatever happened to her?"

Angel grimaced ever so slightly at the mention of Harmony Kendall. _She became a vampire, _a very childish part of him wanted to blurt out. _And so am I, and your daughter's part demon. _The Chase women were practically nose-to-nose, and it was all he could do to not jump in and draw some of Constance's fire. Cordy could more than handle the woman, but she'd been so stressed the last few days that Angel feared what she'd do to her mother if she snapped. He was a little surprised when Cordy sat back in her seat and took up her cup of coffee.

"She died at graduation, Mom. You went to her memorial service."

Match, Cordelia.

But Constance didn't dwell on losing the argument, only on the kids who were listening intently. "Do you think this is appropriate for the children to hear?" Libby, who of all her siblings had been the most interested in the argument, chose that moment to speak up, and, looking directly at her grandmother, said, "What's drying out mean?" Angel took that as his cue to draw the evening to a close, but before he could, Libby spoke up again, this time surprising any of them more than they already had been that evening.

"Marek!"

As one, they all turned to see Marek -- in human form -- standing in the kitchen doorway. "Hey everybody," he said with a half-smile. When Libby jumped from her seat to gleefully throw her arms around Marek's waist, Angel frowned. When Cordelia got up and kissed him, Angel sighed. He stayed silent as the rest of his family welcomed Marek back from his three-week trip to Singapore, and as introductions were made between him and Constance. When Marek greeted him, Angel returned it half-heartedly. When Cordy pulled up a chair next to her for him to sit and catch up, Angel discreetly excused himself and escaped out the back door.

It had gotten dark enough that a few stars were twinkling and a handful of fireflies glowed in the bushes. He leaned against the porch railing and tried to ignore the sounds of conversation and laughter filtering out of the open kitchen windows; conversation which he should have been part of but just couldn't bring himself to endure. Not tonight. When the screen door squeaked a few minutes later, he glanced over his shoulder to see who'd come out to join him. To his great surprise, he found Constance standing there with a smile.

"I just came out to say goodbye."

"You're leaving?"

"Yes. It's getting late, and I can tell that everyone wants time to catch up with Mr. Marek." She paused to study him. "Except you. Are you not fond of him?"

Angel looked back into the house at the group at the table and wondered how to explain the very complicated relationship he had with Marek. How he trusted the man with his life most of the time, yet every once in awhile didn't trust him enough to be alone with the ficus in his office. How he genuinely liked the guy despite any trust issues, yet was bothered by the fact that everyone seemed to love him. How deep, _deep_ down, Angel hated him because he'd gotten Cordelia. "It's complicated," was all he said. Following his gaze to her daughter, Constance then studied him for a very long minute. "You're in love with her," she said finally, firmly.

"She's with Marek," was his terse reply.

"How long?" She demanded, completely disregarding what he'd just said. Crossing his arms over his chest, he gave her his 'brick wall' stare, as Cordy called it. "It doesn't matter." In reality he'd loved her for years but had only realized it when she'd gotten together with Marek. "The hell it doesn't," Constance snapped, surprising him more with her vehemence than choice of words. "Love _always_ matters, especially the love of a good man."

"And she's got that," he replied tonelessly, inclining his head towards the kitchen, towards Marek. When Constance raised a brow, he was struck with the reality of where Cordy had learned the move. Randomly he wondered if any of the girls would inherit it too. "Maybe," Constance agreed. "But she doesn't love him."

"And how could you possibly know that?" He replied more harshly than he'd intended. "You have no idea who Cordelia is anymore." Though he felt instantly guilty at the wounded look on Constance's face, he refused to apologize. Contrite, she shrugged. "You're right, I don't know my daughter anymore. But I _do _know what a woman in love looks like-"

"And that's not Cordelia," he guessed. When she smiled like she knew something he didn't, he narrowed his eyes slightly in a fruitless attempt at trying to figure her out. "I didn't say that. She loves someone, Angel, and I sincerely believe that it's not Mr. Marek." Obviously sensing his skepticism, she sighed. "She looks at you the same way I looked at Richard when we were young. She feels the same about you as you do about her; I'd stake my life on it."

Those few naive words reminded Angel just how far removed this woman was from their lives. Cordy never would have uttered a statement like that, nor Wes or even the kids. Constance knew nothing about them, he told himself. Especially who Cordelia loved. When he didn't say anything in response, she took the hint and turned to go, but not before saying one last thing. "I don't know you, Angel, or this Marek, but you strike me as a good person. I don't want to see you making the biggest mistake of your life by letting her go." When she'd gone, Angel stared moodily at the spot she'd been standing in, then shifted his focus to Cordy and Marek at the kitchen table. Was there any chance that what Constance had said was even partly true? _Does it matter? _A voice whispered tauntingly.

No. It didn't -- couldn't -- matter, because there was no way he could be with Cordelia. He wouldn't put her in that kind of danger, or the rest of the family for that matter. Because while he knew sex didn't usually equal losing his soul, being with Cordy just might do it. "Angel," Cordelia called from the kitchen. "You coming back in?" Suddenly restless, he did go back inside, but only to grab his jacket and a few stakes. "I'm going out," he said distractedly, his mind clouded with too many questions. One thing was crystal clear, however. He needed to kill something.

* * *

It was close to four when Cordelia slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Marek, who practically slept with one eye open, and soundlessly made her way down the stairs. The house was eerily silent, save for a few creaks and the humming of the fridge, and the only light on in the place was the one glowing behind Angel's door. She knew he was up long before she even reached the basement door, though, because she'd heard him come in only minutes before, having been totally unable to sleep until she talked to him. 

"Angel?" She called softly as she descended the stairs into his apartment. Almost instantly he appeared from his bathroom, toothbrush in hand, a puzzled look on his face. "Cordy? What's the matter?"

"I was worried about you."

"What? Why?"

"Because you were alone with my mother for five minutes before you raced off with barely a goodbye. She didn't say anything, did she?" It would be so like her mother to do something stupid to alienate him. When he didn't answer right away and something flashed in his eyes for just a second, the first thing to come to mind was possibly the worst scenario. "Tell me she didn't try to pick you up. Please, just tell me that." When Angel smiled in amusement and replied, "No, she definitely didn't try that", Cordelia let out a sigh of relief. "Well thank god. So what _did _she say?"

Disappearing back into the bathroom, Angel replied, "Nothing, really. She was just saying goodbye."

"Seriously?"

Angel reappeared and joined her on the couch. "Seriously. Now what's _really _bothering you?" That was something Cordelia loved about Angel. He knew her inside and out. "Marek," she said, glad to get it out in the open. "I think things are getting serious." When Angel looked at her incredulously and said, "Cordy, you've been seeing him for almost three years. It's already serious," she crossed her arms with a huff, more than a little miffed that he wasn't seeing things the way she wanted him to. "Angel, he wants me to meet his _family_."

That more than anything was what had her spooked. She'd never been involved with someone long enough to meet the parents. In high school that sort of thing was irrelevant, and the longest relationship she'd had in her twenties had lasted only nine months. In fact, she'd ended that because he'd brought up the idea of dinner with his family and she'd panicked. She didn't _do _in-laws.

"Cordy," Angel said, the expression on his face a cross between amusement and something else she couldn't place. "Meeting his family is not the crisis you're imagining it to be."

"Says you! When was the last time you met one of your girlfriends' family, anyway? Sunnydale?"

"No," he replied defensively. "I met Katrina's parents once." Katrina was a woman Angel had dated four years before. "Didn't you two break up right after that?" She asked suspiciously as the memory of the incident came rushing back. When he looked mildly guilty, she exclaimed triumphantly, "Ha! I knew it!"

Completely disregarding her victory, he studied her questioningly. "Why are you so afraid of meeting them?"

"I'm not _afraid_, I'm...apprehensive."

"Why? If you're worried about them not liking you, you shouldn't. It's impossible not to like you." It was a bald-faced lie and she knew it, but it was sweet nonetheless. "That's not it. I don't know what the problem is; it's like I'm allergic to parents."

Angel smiled. "Including your mother."

"_Especially _my mother," she replied with a snort. "Maybe it's her fault that I don't like parents. Being raised by housekeepers while she consciously ignored me half the time's soured me on them."

"Well the housekeepers did a great job with you," he joked lightly, squeezing her hand. She rolled her eyes but couldn't help but smile. "And you'll do fine with Marek's family," he continued. "You might even like them." Liking them wasn't what she was worried about. From everything Marek had told her about his mother and sister, the three of them would get along smashingly. She didn't want to meet them at all. It would mean that she and Marek were more than just dating -- they were in a _relationship_. And three-year relationships plus meeting the parents said to her that marriage loomed on the horizon.

Cordelia Marek.

Every instinct she had was suddenly screaming at her to _get out_ -- she couldn't become Cordelia _Marek_-

"Cordy?" As Angel's concern broke through the wall of panicky overreaction she'd succumbed to, she gripped Angel's hand tightly. "Tell me I'm not making a mistake, Angel."

"What?"

"Marek," she said impatiently. "Tell me I'm not making a huge mistake with him."

"Where is this coming from?"

"Just tell me!" She snapped, startling the both of them. "Jesus," she sighed. "I'm a basket case."

"You're not," Angel assured. "You've had a lot to deal with this week. It's just hitting you all at once. You just need to take your mind off everything and relax." To help, he started working the knots out of her shoulders. "Forget about your mother, about Marek, everything, and take the day off tomorrow. Go to a spa or something."

"Oohh...a _spa_. I haven't seen the inside of one of those in months." Or had it been years? As the idea took hold and sprouted, Cordelia felt some of the tension drain away. _Of course, the massage helps, _she thought contentedly and before long felt her eyelids getting heavy. The thought of going back up to her room crossed her mind, but the idea of climbing two flights of stairs to get there was too daunting so she snuggled into the couch and closed her eyes. "Hey, Angel?" She murmured. "Thanks for today. You keep me sane." Even half asleep she realized the irony and laughed a little. With a troubled smile and small shake of his head, Angel draped a throw blanket over her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Goodnight Cordy."

* * *

A/N: Okay, I can just imagine what you're all thinking -- 'She just puts Cordy with Marek and now Angel loves her?' I did that because I, again, want to move on a couple of years and won't have that part of the story dragging on for 'years'. Also, I'm not sure if this chapter achieved anything, but c'est la vie. I wanted to get something out there. Next chapter will cover much of what's been brought up in this one. 


	17. ch 17

Something was definitely up. Since he'd gotten home little more than a week ago, Cordelia had been avoiding him like the plague, and, oddly enough, Angel was doing his best to not be in a room alone with _her_. If the two had been avoiding each other then he would have gotten suspicious, but Marek knew that nothing could ever happen between Angel and Cordelia... at least, nothing _really_ serious. They could still kiss... a lot... and do... other stuff. "Damn it!" He muttered, frustrated with himself and suddenly totally unsure. Reaching for his coffee mug, he found it empty and glared into the cup. Before long he found himself in the staff lunchroom with a handful of others, though he didn't feel up to making conversation so he ignored them all as he refilled his mug.

Then he heard a very familiar voice and swung around to see Angel coming through the doorway with a woman who'd recently been hired as a security expert. Anna Ross, he remembered. Pretty, he thought. And interested in Angel, if her flirting was any indication; flirting which the vampire didn't seem to be discouraging. With a tiny breath of relief, Marek grinned into his coffee. _Nothing to worry about. _"Angel," he nodded as he approached the pair. "Anna, you're looking lovely today," he added with a wink, pleased when her eyes shone merrily and Angel frowned, apparently perturbed. "Meeting in ten," Angel reminded him as he passed. With a nod, Marek headed back to his second-floor office.

It was weird, having an office in a big well, _any _company. For most of his professional career he'd relied on word of mouth, a post-office box, and an agent of sorts who was really just his best friend from childhood. He'd never had memos or an inbox or bosses. Clients, yes, bosses, no. It had been a huge adjustment to make, but he'd done it because he'd genuinely liked the Fang Gang, as they were known, and to offer his mother some peace of mind. Of course, she didn't know that he still did jobs on the side, and she never would if he had anything to say about it. _Still_, he mused as he propped his feet up on the desk and ignored the blinking light on his phone signalling a message. The slower pace was nice sometimes. And working for AIS meant he could spend all the time he wanted with Cordy and the kids. At the thought of them, he picked up one of the picture frames decorating his desk and studied the photo of the kids. It had been taken only a month or two before and looking at it now, he couldn't believe how different they all were from each other. It was really the first time he could remember that the differences were so noticeable. The hair styles, the clothes, the interests. If they weren't identical, not many would believe that they were multiples.

Glancing at his watch, he noticed the meeting was about to start, so he set down the photo and headed down to the boardroom. Everyone was there, chatting with one another until it began. Sliding into the empty chair next to Wesley, Marek surveyed the table. Cordy and Angel sat at the head of the table, as per usual, conferring quietly, intensely. A few chairs down, Gunn sat going over some notes. He took his job as head of security very seriously. Wesley was thumbing through a very thick, old-looking tome. "How's Fred doing?" Marek asked, leaning in slightly.

"Anxious to get back to work," He replied with a chuckle. "She's still got three more months of maternity leave, but I'm betting she'll be back at work by next month." Marek smiled, his gaze landing on Cordelia. "I can't imagine her staying home all that time," he agreed. "Why don't you come for dinner tonight?" Wesley offered. "Fred would love the company." Surprised but pleased by the offer, Marek accepted. "Sixish," Wesley said, quietly, just as Cordelia stood up to start the meeting. "Okay people, we have a lot of stuff to get through, but we'll try to keep it short. First thing, we want to officially welcome Anna Ross to AIS..."

'Short' ended up lasting an hour and ten minutes, and Marek found himself zoning in and out (mostly out) for the last twenty minutes of the meeting. When it was finally over, he fell in step with Cordelia as she headed out of the room. "You looked really sexy up there," he said with a suggestive grin. "Very domineering."

"Oh, please," she shot back, rolling her eyes. It might have been more effective if he couldn't see the corners of her mouth twitching as she held back her smile. "But then, you're always domineering, so-" He was cut off by the smack she laid on his shoulder. "Shut it, Johnny," she retorted, knowing how much he hated the nickname. The only people in the world the could get away with using that name were his mother and sister. "See, there you go again, telling me what to do. Don't worry, though," he added with suggestive grin. "It's a total turn-on."

"Keep it in your pants, this is an _office_."

"Technically it's a hotel," he replied lightly, eyes landing on a utility closet door not ten feet away. Motioning towards it (covertly, of course), he leaned in. "What do you say we go make use of that closet?" When she grimaced, he didn't know whether to be offended or a little hurt. Eventually he settled on confused. Catching the look on his face, Cordelia said, "No utility closets. Brings back too many memories from high school."

"He that bad?" Marek asked, feeling a twinge of sympathy for the poor guy, whoever he was. Of course, his sympathy was quickly overruled by his interest at what _had_ to be a good story.

"No, he was actually good. Really good. At kissing, I mean. We never slept together or anything. It was who he was that was the problem."

"Don't tell me that you went slumming!"

She narrowed her eyes at his obvious glee, but reluctantly admitted the truth. "It wasn't exactly slumming, but Xander was the biggest loser in high school well, one of them. Anyway, I couldn't let anyone know we were dating, so we spent the majority of our time together in the utility closet or the library."

"The library?"

She snorted. "Scooby central, Slayer central, whatever you want to call it. Nobody but us, Willow and Buffy really used the library. Especially not the group I used to hang around with."

"Dating below your station is a capital offense high school," he agreed. "They ever find out?" She shot him a 'what do you think' look, to which he smirked. "Bet facing them after that was worse than a firing squad."

"Pfft. A firing squad would have been a nice leisurely vacation compared to what I had to deal with in high school. Dating Xander was just the icing on the cake."

"Is that why you broke up?"

"Why are you so interested in this?" She asked, fixing him with a quizzical look. Marek shrugged. "Because I never get to hear what your life was like pre-kids." And because her adolescence was beginning to sound a hell of a lot more interesting than his had been. "Oh," she said. "Well, actually, we broke up because Xander cheated on me with his best friend." At that, Marek couldn't contain his disbelief. "He cheated on _you_? What a moron." Cordelia shrugged. "Yeah, well, the girl he cheated with turned out to be gay, so I like to think I had karma on my side." With a loud laugh, Marek draped an arm around her waist and planted a kiss on her mouth. "So whatever happened to this Xander?"

"Last I heard he was in Africa hunting down Slayers, but that was just after Sunnydale collapsed. No idea what he's up to now."

"Wonder how long he regretted letting you go."

"Not long enough. He hooked up with a vengeance demon don't ask. She died in Sunnydale, I think. Anyway, I got over it pretty fast, too."

"Well I don't plan on letting you go," He said somewhat seriously. She smirked. "I've kept you around this long, haven't I?"

"Oh, I've been meaning to ask you something. My mother and sister want to come down for a visit, but I've been putting them off to ask you what weekend is good for you..." He trailed off as he felt her stiffen. Glancing over, he saw that the look in her eyes was something akin to dread. "What is it? Vision?" With a sigh, she shook her head. "No. I just..." she sighed again. "Look, I've never 'met the mother' before, okay?" She made air quotes as she said it and Marek was amazed to see her looking mildly sheepish. He'd never seen that look on her before. He smirked before he could contain himself but wisely chose to refrain from commenting. "Listen, you have _nothing_ to worry about. My mother already loves you because you love me." It wasn't a lie exactly, more like a different spin on the truth. His mother wasn't the mother-in-law from hell type, but she _was_ protective. She already liked Cordelia because Cordy had fallen for his 'true self', as Julia Marek liked to put it, and not his human face. Whether she would continue to like Cordelia remained to be seen.

"She's really only interested in seeing the kids anyway," he assured her lightly. An actual truth this time. His mother had been pining for grandchildren since he'd moved out of the house, but hadn't really put the pressure on until his sister had flown the nest too. It was an ever-lasting thorn in her side that neither he nor Val had yet provided her with any. Cordelia eyed him skeptically. "Uh huh." Glancing at her tasteful, expensive watch, she thought for a moment. "Alright. This month is out for sure, but I think I could free up a weekend next month."

"Are you sure you can manage the sacrifice?"

"You know, now that I think about it, I'm booked for the rest of the year..." With an easy grin and a kiss, he said, "I'll give her a call. Movie tonight? I'm supposed to have dinner with Fred and Wes, but we could go after." Cordelia nodded. "Yeah, okay. Hang on," she said as her cell phone chirped to life. "Cordelia Chase," she said into the receiver in her business voice, then paused to listen a moment. "She is? Uh huh. Is she there now? Can you put her on?" There was another pause while she waited, and Marek assumed the call had something to do with one of the kids. "Hey kiddo," she said, confirming his suspicion. "What's the matter? Your stomach hurts? Well, are you throwing up?" Marek smiled as he watched her in Mommy-mode. They had to be throwing up or burning up for her to allow them a sick day. "What do you mean not that kind-" She stopped suddenly and her expression changed. "Ohhhh, I get it. Okay, yeah. I'll be there in about fifteen minutes. Love you." She tucked the phone away. "Libby's not feeling well, I'm going to pick her up."

When she headed off down the hallway, Marek stood a minute to appreciate her fantastic form in motion. Suddenly restless and full of energy, he decided the best outlet for it was exercise and casually made his way down to the fully outfitted training room that the gang had added to the hotel several years before. A locker room had been added when Angel had finally agreed to Cordelia's expansion of the business. In no time flat he was in his traditional workout clothes and accepting an offer to spar with one of the security guys. It wasn't exactly the workout he was looking for, but it would be a nice warm up.

* * *

Libby quietly slipped into the training room and settled herself on a bench against the wall to watch. The room was pretty empty, only three people were using the facilities. Completely disregarding two of them, she focused her attention on Marek, who was working with a long sword. No, working was the wrong word. Dancing. It looked like he was dancing with it, moving so fluidly and gracefully. Suddenly she was grateful that she'd been able to come home sick, despite the reason. She wasn't _really _sick, but getting her first period in the middle of math class had been so traumatizing that she'd _had _to leave. Her mom had been really great about it, too, taking her out for lunch and to get a manicure. Studying her raspberry-coloured nails, she smiled a little. Neither Ivy or Bridget had gotten IT yet, and now that she had, Libby felt a little bit special and grown up (but not _that _special).

Hearing the sword slice through the air brought her attention back to Marek. She loved watching him train more than anyone. He had a certain style about him that was just mesmerizing. Her dad had a style too, but it was not one that captured her attention. His seemed all about beating the bad guy while Marek's was something more. Tilting her head slightly as she watched the precision of his moves, she realized that he was in complete and total control of his body. She liked that. She liked everything about the fight, the weapons, and what mastering them would represent.

Sometimes Libby wondered what her siblings thought of the whole thing. She knew that most kids her age wouldn't even see past the ass-kicking factor, and figured her siblings probably fell into that category. Sometimes she wondered what they would think if they knew what she thought about it. They probably wouldn't care; they were all so wrapped up in their own stuff to even notice each other half the time. She didn't _really_ care what they thought, though, except for Noah. Would he understand, or would he be completely weirded out by it? Shoving the thoughts aside as Marek wound down, Libby jumped off the bench. He noticed her right away. "Hey, Lib, grab that water, would you?" She did as asked and brought him the requested bottle of water. As he took a long drink, she eyed the sword dangling in his free hand. Making a snap decision, she looked him in the eye. "Will you teach me that?" He didn't respond right away, instead he took another drink of water. "Which part?" He asked finally. Libby didn't hesitate. "All of it."

"You want to learn to use a sword?"

She shook her head. "I want to learn _everything._"

After a minute of studying her, he said, "Why?"

Why? Libby was surprised by the question. Of everything she'd prepared herself to hear from him, that was not on the list. Still, she suspected that whatever she said would influence his decision. She didn't know how to put into words why she wanted to learn, so she just gave him the first reason she _could_ put into words. "I want to move like you do."

Libby was surprised by the question. Of everything she'd prepared herself to hear from him, that was not on the list. Still, she suspected that whatever she said would influence his decision. She didn't know how to put into words why she wanted to learn, so she just gave him the first reason she put into words. "I want to move like you do." 

Yet another moment was spent in silence as he mulled over her answer. "Alright," he said. "I'll talk it over with your parents." Libby immediately had to (literally) bite her tongue to keep from protesting, and reminded herself that her mom and dad wouldn't immediately shoot the idea down. "Okay," she agreed, then smiled up at him. "But could you show me a couple of things right now? You know, just for fun?"

And as Libby smiled, Marek eyed her, a little perturbed. He got the sudden, definite feeling that there was a hell of a lot more to his sweet little Libby than he'd thought.

* * *

Angel ignored the doorman as he stepped into the lobby of the Beverly Wilshire hotel not twenty minutes after he'd received the call. "Where's your bar?" He asked the concierge, and before long found himself scanning the hotel's bar for Constance Chase. He found her in a booth sipping a martini. "What's this about?" He asked, not unkindly, as he slid in across from her. For the life of him, he'd not been able to figure out why she'd wanted to meet him 'for drinks'. With a knowing smile she set her glass down. "Hello, Angel. Thank you for meeting me."

He waited silently for her to continue. When she saw he wasn't going to make small talk, her smile lost a bit of its lustre. "I wanted to talk with you about Cordelia and that man she's seeing." Angel almost snorted at the way she said 'that man'. "Marek."

"Yes. They're quite serious, aren't they?"

Angel nodded once. "Why?"

She ignored his question. "How long have you known him?"

"About ten years."

"Hmm." She took a thoughtful sip of her drink, finishing it off, and signalled the waitress for another. "He travels a lot, yes?" Angel narrowed his eyes. She was obviously interested in Marek for some reason, and the fact that she wasn't dancing around the topic had him wary of her motive. "Some," he agreed slowly. "Why are you so interested in him?"

"How is it that you put your own life on hold to step in as a father for those children without a second thought, while the man that may very well become their step-father isn't around much of the time at all?"

"Let's get one thing straight," he replied icily. "I _never _put my life on hold. Those children _are _my life." She could not begin to understand what having those kids meant to him. If it wasn't for them and Cordelia, he would probably still be spending his days brooding and his nights fighting. But he wasn't about to give this veritable stranger any explanations. "Now why did you call me here?"

"I like you, Angel. I don't want to see you make the mistake of sitting back and watching the woman you love throw her life away-" Abruptly getting to his feet, Angel fixed her with his most menacing look. "You're unbelievable. What right do you have to come in here and pass judgement on our lives? Not only are you way out of line; you're misinformed, too."

"You belong with my daughter, Angel. I really believe that."

He turned on his heel and left Constance to fume over her drink. The woman really was unbelievable. And presumptuous as hell. "Thinks she knows everything," he muttered darkly as he slid behind the wheel of his old Plymouth. Had she really expected to convince him to, what, duel Marek for Cordelia's affection? Shaking his head at the sheer absurdity of the situation, Angel headed for home.

Back in the bar of her hotel, Constance was indeed fuming over her drink. The meeting had not gone at all the way she'd planned. She'd anticipated a leisurely, calm discussion about the situation between Angel, Cordelia, and that Marek man, and what could be done to remedy it. Instead she'd somehow overstepped some invisible boundary and infuriated her daughter's best friend. Because it was clear that's all he would allow himself to be, just the best friend. But how many best friends were also the father of your children? And were madly in love with you? Why Cordelia couldn't see what was right in front of her, Constance would never know. But what she _did _know was that she could help open her daughter's eyes.

All that remained was figuring out just how to do it.

* * *

Cordelia was disgusted with herself. When had she become so spineless? Back in Sunnydale she wouldn't have thought twice about meeting some boyfriend's parents. She would have dazzled them with her wit and charmed them by whatever means necessary. Cordelia Chase of Sunnydale would have rather borrowed clothes from Willow than let herself be intimidated by _anyone_. So the morning Marek's family was due to arrive, she got the kids out of the house, gave herself a facial and picked out her best outfit. She was going to make sure that she looked damn good to go along with her newly restored confidence. When she was ready a full hour before they were set to arrive and called work twice to check up on things, she realized that somewhere along the way she'd become an honest-to-god adult without realizing it. At the sheer idiocy of the thought, she shook her head. She was thirty. She had six children and ran a business. Of course she was an adult.

"Sheila," she said with a hint of desperation when her friend picked up the phone. "I'm bored."

Sheila laughed. "You're _bored_?"

Cordelia couldn't believe it either, but it was true. "I haven't had real free time since I was in high school. I have no idea what to do with myself until Marek gets here with his mother."

"Read a magazine, watch TV. Pamper yourself a bit."

"I've done that. I stretched out my facial for an hour and a half."

"Clean the house?" Sheila suggested, and much to Cordelia's horror, she couldn't even do that. "Believe it or not, there's nothing to do. I did everything yesterday because I knew they were coming." Sheila made a sound of understanding. "I only wish I was in your shoes right now."

"Yeah, they are pretty great," Cordelia agreed, admiring the shoes she'd bought on sale. "They're actually designer."

"That's not what I meant."

Heaving a breath she dropped onto the couch. "Yeah, I know. So how are the plans going? Have you picked the flowers yet?" Sheila and Gunn, after four years and a child together, had finally decided to get married. The ceremony was only three months away, and they'd only just started doing the serious planning. Cordelia knew that when she finally got married she'd spend the better part of a year making plans and perfecting them. She then spent the remainder of her free time chatting with Sheila about the upcoming nuptials and in fact had to cut the conversation short when she heard a car pull up in the drive.

"Oh, they're here."

"Good luck, sweetie," Sheila said, and Cordelia ended the call. Quickly straightening her shirt, fluffing her hair, and kicking an errant magazine under the couch, she went to the door to greet them. The door swung open as of it had a mind of its own when she was mere feet from the threshold, though it was actually Marek, and Cordelia finally came face to face with her greatest fear to date. Even as she berated herself for the thought, all she could do was stare. The woman was stunning. Long silvery hair, skin that went from dark to the lightest blues with eyes to match, fabulous bone structure and an impressive height of what had to be six feet. Then the woman smiled and, if possible, got even more beautiful. "Cordelia!" And before she knew it, Julia Marek had enveloped her in a crushing hug.

"Uh, hi." When Julia released her, she stepped out of the way to allow them entry. "Come on in." Marek, who'd watched the interaction with one of those cat who'd caught the canary smiles, made the formal introductions. "Mom, Cordelia. Cordy, my mother, Julia, and my sister, Val." Cordelia hadn't seen the sister standing behind Marek and Julia and was surprised to see that she was in human form. Average height, dark hair like her brother's, when he was human, and blue eyes behind a chic pair of glasses. "Nice to meet you," Cordelia said, extending her hand. "It's about time," Val replied with a grin. "_Great _house. No wonder John spends most of his time here, his place is nothing compared to this." The women were staying at Marek's apartment for the duration of their stay, but his place wasn't exactly the hole in the wall she was making it out to be.

"Would you like a tour?" She offered to the both of them, praying that the kids hadn't messed their rooms up over the last twelve hours. When they accepted enthusiastically, Cordelia relaxed minutely and sent Marek into the kitchen to begin preparing lunch. "Okay, well, that's the living room, obviously, and the dining room. Down there is Angel's apartment..." As she mentioned that, she half expected Julia to say something about the living arrangements, but surprisingly she didn't comment on much besides the decor or made chit chat about the art or photographs. She led them upstairs and made sure to peek inside all the kids' rooms before allowing Julia and Val to see. "So they all get their own rooms?" Val asked, amazed, half way through the tour.

"Yeah, they totally lucked out. Originally most of them would have had to share, but Libby and Noah convinced us to convert the attic into bedrooms for them."

Val nodded approvingly. "I can't wait until I have a house. I've been saving up for one." At that, Julia smiled indulgently but then changed the subject. "So where are the kids today?"

"With friends, mostly. Darren's spending the afternoon with Lorne, though. A friend of ours," she explained at their blank looks. "He's teaching Darren to play the piano."

"That's wonderful," Julia said. "I always wished these two were musically gifted or even just learned to play. Instead they wasted their youth running around with the neighbourhood kids, getting into trouble." The twinkle in her eye attested to the fact that she was only teasing, and while Val rolled her eyes, Cordelia laughed. Julia pressed on. "Make sure he sticks with it," she advised. "It's a good skill to have. How old is he?"

"Just turned eleven, but he's been playing since he was about eight." Julia nodded as if agreeing with his decision. "Good boy. I'm looking forward to meeting them."

"Tomorrow night," Cordelia assured, referring to the dinner she was hosting for just about everyone. "So, lunch?"

* * *

Marek had made chicken quesadilla, apparently Julia's favourite dish. As she watched Marek and his mother interact, Cordy was amazed at how close they were, and how they obviously adored each other. Fleetingly, it reminded her of her own relationship with Noah. Val kept her amused with stories of Marek's childhood and not so innocent adolescence. "Thank god there aren't any baby pictures," Marek had muttered at one point, which had his mother reaching for her purse. At her son's mortification, Julia had dissolved into laughter. "I didn't bring them," she'd assured him. It was a wonderful afternoon, and Cordelia found that she really liked both women. All of her worries had been completely unfounded and she happily waved them away and relaxed. "So, Cordelia," Val said as Cordy served the coffee cake. "How did you and Johnny meet?"

A shadow briefly haunted Cordelia's eyes as the memory was dredged up. She'd never really forgiven him for that, but had managed to put it out of her mind well enough to engage in a relationship with him, and Marek knew it. Clearing his throat, Marek came up with an easy lie. "Through work. It's a pretty boring story." Val seemed to accept the explanation, but Cordelia noted that Julia was far from convinced. "How did you get together?" She asked. "I remember John suddenly talking about you whenever we spoke, but he never told me that." This time Cordelia snorted. _That _story was a lot more interesting, and involved being locked in a closet for several hours together and a game of I Never, but Julia didn't need to hear all that, so Cordy gave her the edited version. "We were on a job and had some time to kill, so we started talking. Things just kind of happened." She shrugged and changed the subject by questioning Val about her job as an editor. As Val talked, Cordelia covertly studied Julia, trying to determine how the woman felt about her. The hug at their first meeting aside, she hadn't been overly gushy or particularly cold towards Cordelia, and the fact that Julia was giving absolutely nothing away kind of annoyed her.

An hour later, when she walked all three Mareks to the door, she felt no better about the situation. When Julia hugged her again and kissed her cheek, her doubt receded marginally. "Tomorrow," she said, andwaved goodbye to Val as the women walked to the car. Marek fixed her with a look. "What're you thinking about?"

"What the neighbours would think if they saw a blue woman coming out of my house," she answered honestly, then grinned just a little. "She's wonderful. Not what I expected, but I really do like her."

"She likes you too."

Cordy narrowed her eyes at him. "How could you possibly know that? You weren't alone with her at all today!" As usual, he smiled that sly grin of his. "Trust me. You were great, Cordy."

"Yeah, yeah. Go, your mother's waiting." He didn't need any more prompting and as he backed his car out of the drive, Cordelia let out the snort of laughter she'd been holding in all afternoon. As unbelievable as it seemed, John Marek was a complete and total mama's boy. Still smiling and content with how the dreaded meeting had gone, she turned back inside and went to prepare for the barbecue she was holding the next day. Between phone calls and grocery lists, she even found herself humming. Once again, life had surprised her by being good.

* * *

A/N: Let me start by saying that due to the fact that this story covers such a huge period of time, I'm not going to spend time on details that I feel are unimportant in the grand scheme of things. I was planning on making this chapter longer, but decided to post now instead, and also, the meeting between Cordy and Marek's mother turned out kind of anti-climactic, but oh well. 


	18. ch 18

Caleb was not pleased. He was missing his game to wait around in a _suit _while everybody got ready for the stupid wedding. He didn't really mind going to that, but the ceremony was still hours off and he had to sit around and make sure his suit didn't get dirty. It was so _stupid_ and totally boring. Maybe if he'd been at home and had something to do it would have been okay, but instead they were at Sheila's house so his mother could help her 'get ready'. His sisters were locked away in April's room doing girl stuff and Darren and Noah had both been shanghaied by Sheila's grandmother who kept telling them how cute they were. Thankfully, Caleb had narrowly escaped that torture and was hiding out in the backyard. Only problem was that he was bored silly. The only thing on TV was soap operas and April didn't have any video games, and he wasn't allowed to goof around in case his precious suit got ruined. He couldn't even hang around with the guys because they were all preoccupied with getting Gunn ready.

"This sucks," he muttered, kicking at the railing of the porch. Then inspiration struck. Maybe he could sneak away to his buddy Roman's house for a couple of hours. He lived near April _and _had video games. It wasn't like anyone would notice him gone or anything anyway. Decision made, he casually made his way to the gate and was halfway out of the yard when someone called his name. Guiltily, he turned to see Gunn waiting expectantly on the deck. "Yeah?" He replied nervously. Tucking his hands into his pockets, Gunn made his way over. "Going somewhere?"

"No."

"Uh huh."

"I'm bored," Caleb said, changing the subject. Tugging at the tie his mom made him wear, he grimaced. "And I hate wearing this monkey suit." Gunn looked side to side and leaned in. "So do I."

"Then why are we wearing them?"

"For the same reason all men dress up. To make our women happy."

When Caleb pulled a face, Gunn laughed. "Trust me, when you meet a girl you like, you'll want to do whatever you can to make her happy, because when she's happy, you're happy."

Caleb thought about that for a minute. Neither of his dads had ever given him advice about girls. True, he'd never brought the subject up to them before, but lately Wes had been preoccupied with Chris, and Angel with work some drama with Bridget or one of his other siblings. Plus, he was willing to bet that when he did bring it up, it would be a really awkward conversation like the one Angel had given them about sex. "So, um, how do you know if, you know, a girl... likes you?" Gunn grinned at the question. "Why?" Caleb, who avoided his gaze and tried furiously to fight the blush that was working its way into his face, shrugged. If possible, Gunn's grin widened. "What's her name?"

Caleb weighted his options momentarily, and decided that if telling Gunn the name of the girl he liked was going to get him advice, then he'd bite the bullet. "Carly."

"Is she cute?"

Caleb shrugged. She was beautiful, but he was worried that if he said that, he'd start getting mushy. Somehow Gunn saw through his vague reply. "She's cute. Okay, does she know you exist?"

"What?" What kind of question was that? Of course she knew he existed. "Yeah, she sits in front of me at school. Why?"

"Trust me, it's important. Does she ever talk to you?"

"Sometimes."

"Perfect. Okay, here's what you want to do..."

As Gunn explained how to get Carly to like him, Caleb couldn't believe how complicated the whole girl thing was. Still, he soaked up the advice like a sponge and couldn't wait to get to school on Monday to try it out. When Gunn finished up sometime later, Caleb felt as if an entirely new world had opened up before him. It was intimidating but kind of exciting. Gunn stood up to head back into the house and Caleb followed. "Hey, thanks."

"Anytime, buddy. Make sure to keep me posted."

"I will. But -- don't say anything to Mom, okay?" He could only imagine what his mother would say or do if she knew he liked a girl. Gunn nodded in understanding and Caleb was flooded with relief. "Good. Thanks."

* * *

The ceremony was held after sundown at LA's best public garden under a white tent with candles lighting the whole area. There were only family and friends present and a lone guitarist providing the music on an acoustic. As Cordelia marched down the aisle behind Sheila's best friend, she took in the details and decided that it was beautiful. Perfect even. The thought made her smirk a little. Once upon a time her version of the perfect wedding was five hundred people in a cathedral, and her prince was rich. Everything else about the guy was inconsequential.

Now her prince wasn't even human.

She flashed a smile to Gunn as she took her place in the bridesmaid line at the altar and, along with everyone else, watched Sheila walk down the aisle. Her dress was simple and elegant and she looked stunning, as every bride should. As the ceremony got under way, Cordelia scanned the crowd. Her kids were all in their best outfits and looked wonderful, and miracle of miracles had behaved themselves all day. Marek sat with them, handsome as hell in a very expensive Armani suit; Fred was next to him looking amazingly put together for a woman who'd arrived twenty minutes before the ceremony started. There were one or two of Gunn's old street buddies in attendance, as well as a couple of his good friends from work. Wesley and Angel, of course, were groomsmen and proudly stood next to their friend as he recited his vows.

It was romantic and relaxed, and several people chuckled when Sheila and Gunn's eighteen-month-old, Lana, tried chatting with her parents from her grandmother's lap. Afterwards the reception was held in another tent just like the one they'd gotten married under. The food was good, the music was provided by a small band that Lorne had set them up with, and everyone was dancing and having a great time. When she saw Angel dancing with Bridget, she smiled fondly. When she spotted Ivy sneaking a drink of Lorne's sea breeze and the boys hovering suspiciously near the hors d'oeuvres, she frowned at them warningly. When Marek swept her out onto the dance floor, she laughed.

"You look beautiful," Marek said. She replied, "That's probably the fiftieth time you've said that tonight." They passed by Gunn and Sheila, who looked ridiculously happy. "I can't believe Gunn's married," she said absently. He'd never really struck her as the settling down type. "You know, at one point in my life, I didn't think I'd _ever _be a bridesmaid."

"Especially before you were married?"

"Exactly. I figured I'd be married by twenty-three and living in a mansion in Beverly Hills. Now I'm an unmarried thirty year old and I've been a bridesmaid twice. If only the Cordettes could see me now. But I'm happier this way, I think."

"The Cordettes?"

Cordy smiled ruefully. "My old crowd in high school."

"You were the Queen Bee, huh?"

"Queen C, actually. It was on my licence plate and everything. Anyway, if any of them could see me now they'd either think I was possessed or they'd cross the street to avoid me. Except maybe Harmony," she added thoughtfully, then caught his expression. "What?"

"You shouldn't talk like that. You have a wonderful life. I bet most of them would kill for a life like yours."

A bit taken aback by his vehemence, Cordelia stared for a second then shrugged. "Well, the ones who are still alive, anyway." After a second, both she and Marek broke down into giggles. "Trust me," she said, trying to calm down. "I have no regrets about the way my life turned out."

"None?"

"Well _some_, but you know what I mean." They finished the dance in a companionable silence, and Cordelia abandoned Marek for a dance with the groom, then with Angel and Wes and even Lorne. Hours later when everyone was sloppy drunk and singing karaoke -- Angel's bright idea, surprisingly -- and most of the kids were literally passed out on the lawn, Cordelia propped her feet up on the chair opposite her and mulled over the day's events. Another one of her closest friends had gotten married, leaving her pretty much the last one in line. Not like Angel would ever tie the knot, and even after ten years of friendship, she had no clue what Lorne looked for in a... relationship. So that left her. With a snort of laughter, she shook her head. She was acting like it was her sole priority in life to land herself a husband, which was ridiculous because A, it wasn't the eighteenth century, and B, she realized she had no real, desperate desire to become somebody's wife.

"What's on your mind, beautiful?"

Blinking, Cordelia looked up into Marek's smiling face. The corners of her mouth curled. "Nothing, really. You having fun?"

"Yeah. Things are winding down though. It's getting late."

"I know. We should get the kids home to bed." Slowly getting to her feet, she moved in the direction of the pile of children sleeping on the lawn, intent on waking them. "Cordelia," Marek's voice stopped her, she looked back. "I love you."

She smiled slightly. "Love you too."

* * *

The girl was making fabulous progress, Marek decided as he watched Libby stretch and warm down. He'd never known any other eleven year old who, after only four months of training, had mastered as much as Libby. Soon he'd be able to move her on to the more advanced techniques. She was a ways away from learning with the sword still, but at this rate, he expected she'd have her hands on one much sooner than he'd planned.

"Good job today," he praised when she wandered over for her water. After taking a drink, she beamed up at him. "What are we doing tomorrow?" Their sessions ran almost daily at Libby's request, much to her parents' surprise. Marek knew that Angel was pleased as punch that his daughter was so taken with it, but he knew the vampire was a little wounded that she hadn't come to him to learn. Because of it, Angel occasionally joined them in their lessons. "I think your dad said he was going to stop by." Her expression never wavered and she nodded agreeably, but sometimes Marek wondered what really went on inside that head of hers.

"Are you going to do anything?" She asked hopefully, causing him to chuckle. He had no clue why she liked watching him train so much. "Not today, kiddo. Sorry." He had a rather important surprise weekend trip to plan. "Come on, I'll take you home."

"Have you ever been to Venice?"

"Italy? Yeah, several times. Why?"

When she sighed enviously, Marek bit back a smile. "I really want to go there, and to Rome and Florence."

"Since when?"

She shrugged. "Since I had to do a project on Italy for school. What's it like there?" As Marek told her stories about his time in Italy, Libby eagerly soaked them up, peppering him with questions along the way. When he pulled into the drive and she bounded up the steps and waved, he grinned foolishly, completely enamored with the girl. Backing the car onto the road, he mulled over the idea of taking Cordy to Venice and decided he liked it.

"Thank you, Libby."

* * *

Constance had dropped subtle hints, tried her hand at cooking up ludicrous plans to make her daughter see the light, and had entertained the idea of trying to pay that Marek man off, but nothing had worked. Finally she knew what she had to do, and wasn't going to waste time thinking about it so had asked Cordelia to meet her for lunch.

"Darling, hello." She stood to kiss her daughter's cheek when she arrived. "How are things? The children?"

"The kids are good. Darren's actually gotten too good for Lorne to continue teaching him piano, so we're looking for a new teacher, and Ivy's decided that she wants to be a pilot."

Constance inwardly shuddered at the thought of her granddaughter doing something so dangerous and reckless but kept her opinion on the matter to herself for the moment. "That's wonderful. And how is Angel doing?" Almost instantly Cordelia became wary, and Constance knew that it was because every time she brought up Angel, and argument would follow. "Angel's fine, mom. Everyone's doing great. And how are you?" She added somewhat sweetly, changing the subject.

Constance let it go for the moment, and, after the waiter took their orders, told Cordelia about her various clubs and committees, and briefly updated her on her father, who was planning on coming for a visit closer to the summer. Finally, halfway through their meal and after other conversation topics had been exhausted, Constance got down to business. "I must admit that I had an ulterior motive in asking you to lunch today," she began, and was rewarded with an eye-roll and a muttered 'big surprise'. "I want to discuss something with you that you may not want to hear, but I promise that if you hear me out, I won't ever bring it up again."

She'd learned from her encounter with Angel not to assume that Cordelia would listen to her without a little quid pro quo. When her daughter very reluctantly agreed, Constance felt her spirits lift. "I know you and Marek are quite serious -- now, you agreed to hear me out, remember -- but I wanted to make sure that you were aware of all the factors before you decide to settle down with him."

"Mother..."

Constance held up a hand. "Darling, I'm only looking out for your best interests. I'm sure that he's a good man, but Angel-"

"What about Angel?" She snapped. "He's a _better _man than Marek?"

You said it, she thought. "Angel is completely devoted to you and the children. I'm sure Marek loves them, too," she hastily added. "But Angel would die for them, I just know it. Would Marek do that? Would he put you first in his life? Before his work, his family? His mother?" Constance hadn't known Angel or Marek all that long, but she knew without a shred of doubt that Angel put Cordelia absolutely first in his life; she felt that that was the most important thing in a relationship, and she could not say the same about Marek.

"Cordelia, Angel is completely in love with you, and I think you love him too."

There, she'd said it. She'd been trying for months to figure out how to get it across, and now that she had, she waited with bated breath for a reply. The one she got was completely not what she expected.

"Of course I love him."

"No, I mean-"

"I know what you mean, Mom. I do love Angel, very much. But just because you love someone doesn't mean you can or should be with them."

"So you're with Marek simply because you're not with Angel?"

"No. I'm with Marek because I love him. In fact, we're going to Venice on Saturday for a few days." Constance felt her face fall. "You know what's going to happen there."

Cordelia _did _know -- or at least she had a hell of a strong hunch, one that made her nervous, but she wasn't about to admit it to her mother. And if that hunch proved correct, well, she'd deal with it when the time came. "Yeah, I have a pretty good idea."

"And?"

Cordelia sighed. "And what?"

"And what do you plan to say? It's not exactly something I've ever heard you express anything positive about."

"I'm sure that I'll know what to say if and when it happens." Constance stabbed savagely at her salad. "Fine. I just hope you don't do something you'll wind up regretting. Remember this conversation when you're on your little trip."

Remember? Cordelia doubted she could forget. And several days later in Venice when her hunch proved right and Marek got down on bended knee before her and proposed, that conversation played through her mind as if it had happened earlier that very day. Even the size of the diamond wasn't enough to distract her. She really wasn't with Marek because she couldn't have Angel. She was with him because she genuinely wanted to be, and almost four years was a long time to keep him hanging. So with a brilliant smile, she said:

"All right, I'll marry you."

* * *

A/N: For everyone who didn't like Constance, I'm happy to say that that's what I was going for. NEXT chapter will jump ahead in time a wee bit and will finally focus on the kids. Thanks to all reviewers!


	19. ch 19

Bridget leaned precariously over her dresser to get as close to the mirror as possible. Carefully she traced the eyeliner pencil over her right eye, and then just as carefully did her left. Putting down the pencil amongst the clutter on her dresser, she stepped back to survey her work. The person looking back at her was almost a stranger. She'd left her hair loose today instead of her customary braid and was wearing makeup for the first time in her life. Eyeliner, shadow, lip gloss -- it was all foreign territory for her. Turning side to side, she frowned. Going to a private school meant uniforms, which she liked, but there wasn't much she could do to improve them. Some girls rolled their skirts up, but she had always thought that they were begging for trouble.

Then she'd started the eighth grade a week ago.

Suddenly girls in her class were wearing shorter skirts, makeup, and flirting ridiculously with the boys. A couple of the really adventurous ones wandered over to the high school building on campus at lunchtime to hang around the older guys. Bridget wasn't stupid and knew exactly what was happening. In just one year they would be moving up to the high school building. In high school things like popularity were considered especially important, no matter whether you were in the accelerated curriculum or the regular. To be the best you had to be popular, and Bridget was determined to be the best.

Experimentally she rolled her skirt up a couple of inches but grimaced at the thought of making herself look cheap. Plus, she did not have the legs for short skirts. She'd never had a complex about her body before -- she was by no means overweight, but she still hadn't lost her baby fat, and to top it off she was already into a B-cup, which made her look even bigger compared to most of the girls in her grade, who were built like reeds. Lowering her skirt, she decided that mascara would be the finishing touch and leaned close to the mirror with the brand new tube. She was in the process of applying it when her bedroom door burst open, startling her to the point that she jabbed herself in the eye with the wand. "Ow! Crap!"

"Bee, I need to borrow your white shirt."

Whirling around and dabbing at her furiously watering eye with a sock she'd found on the dresser, Bridget glared at her sister, who was already digging through the closet. "Ivy! Learn to knock!" Without turning, Ivy gave a careless shrug. "Sorry. Ooh, here it is." Bridget watched as her sister yanked the white blouse off its hanger and snapped angrily, "I did not say you could borrow that."

Turning, Ivy tossed her waist-length hair over her shoulder. "God, don't be such a bitch." Then she paused. "You're wearing makeup." Ignoring the semi-snide comment, Bridget motioned to the shirt Ivy held. "What do you want with that, anyway? You don't even like my clothes." And Bridget didn't like Ivy's. Her sister was always wearing grungy, ripped jeans and skimpy little tank tops. Bridget preferred clean and simple.

"Where did you get it?" Ivy demanded, referring to the makeup. Bridget glowered. "I bought it yesterday, now go away."

"That colour isn't really good for you," she replied critically. Bridget nearly growled, but did not contradict her sister. Ivy had been wearing makeup, secretly applied at school, since halfway through the sixth grade. Instead she pointed at the door with the mascara wand. "Out!" And, with a smirk, Ivy left, taking the shirt with her. Quickly retouching up the makeup, Bridget grabbed her bag, double-checking to make sure she had her essay, and went downstairs for breakfast.

Morning in the Chase household was always nuts, and this one was no different. Her dad usually made breakfast while her mom rushed around trying to get herself and all six of them out the door on time. Darren frequently slept in and therefore ran around like mad getting ready while everyone else fought over bathrooms, did last minute homework, or generally just added to the chaos.

"Morning Princess," said her dad as she slid into her seat at the table. "Morning," she replied and reached for the cereal in the middle of the table. "Don't want any waffles?" He asked. Glancing up she shook her head, then winced slightly at the look on her dad's face. "What are you wearing?" He demanded, causing all other conversations to cease and her siblings to stare at her. She glared at them but smiled up at her father. "Just a little makeup, Daddy."

"I don't think so. You're only twelve."

"Almost thirteen," she replied calmly, if a bit defensively. She should have known better than to face her father while wearing anything other than a nun's habit. _Should have done it at school like Ivy_. "Doesn't matter," her father said with a scowl. She glared back at him. "I'm not a little girl anymore, _Dad_."

"She's right, Dad," said Libby around a mouthful of waffles, causing Bridget to send her a silent thank you. "My friend's cousin is in the tenth grade and she's pregnant. That's only two years away." Bridget's thank you turned into a blistering glare when their father's face went ashen. "Yeah, Dad," piped up Ivy wickedly. "If we can have babies, we should be able to wear makeup." Angel made a strange strangled sound that caused everyone to giggle.

"Girls, stop terrorizing your father," said their mom as she walked into the kitchen reading some kind of brief. Bridget had no idea how her mother had the ability to hear everything, and even though it weirded her out, she admired the trait. "Cordelia!" Her dad choked out. "Look at your daughter." Bridget suddenly became very interested in her cereal, only pausing to kick a snickering Caleb under the table.

"Ooh, hon, your hair looks great today!" Surprised, Bridget looked up and touched a hand to her loose, curly hair. "Really?"

"Not the point!" Said Angel. "She is far too young to be wearing makeup!"

Bridget waited while her mom scrutinized her. Finally Cordelia spoke. "I was her age when I started wearing it, Angel." She glanced down at her watch. "Come with me for a minute, Bee."

Bewildered, Bridget followed her mother up the stairs and into the master bedroom. "What's up?"

"I don't have a problem with you wearing makeup; I just think you're overdoing it a little bit." As she talked, she instructed Bridget to sit on the toilet seat and washed off the makeup that had been painfully applied not twenty minutes ago. "The key to makeup is just using enough to enhance your natural beauty. Sometimes a little extra is okay for parties and such, but for every day you only need a bit." Bridget sat immobile as her mom redid it using her own supply. The fact that she was even taking time out of her busy morning to do it surprised and pleased Bridget immensely. "So, what brought this on?" Her mom asked conversationally as she applied the liner.

"I dunno. Things are different this year."

She'd given absolutely nothing away, but her mother nodded in understanding. "I remember that all too well. There, all finished." Checking herself out, Bridget realized the difference instantly. "Wow. Thanks." Her mother squeezed her shoulder. "You're beautiful, babe. Never forget that. Maybe after school I can show you how to do it just like that."

"Just us?" Bridget replied hopefully. She rarely got to spend time alone with her mom. When Cordelia nodded, Bridget grinned and secretly couldn't wait to upstage Ivy in something that her sister thought she was an expert on.

* * *

That day at lunch, Bridget contemplated her latest social studies assignment over her sandwich of leftover chicken from two nights before. She had to do a comprehensive family tree with a highlight on five members, not including siblings. On one hand it was the perfect excuse to delve into her parents' pasts, but on the other, almost everything she would find out would be completely unusable. It would probably be the highlight of her teacher's day to read about a family of vampires and demons, but it would most likely land her a session with the school psychologist and an unthinkable punishment from her parents.

"Okay, who are you and what have you done to my best friend?"

Bridget rolled her eyes as Krista slid onto the bench opposite her. Krista Venditi was short, redheaded, and resembled a pixie so much that it was startling. They'd been friends since the day Bridget had started at Ferncliff. "What? It's no big deal."

"Uh, hello? You, Bridget Chase, have crossed over to the dark side."

"Oh, come _on_. Look, you know that I plan to be student body president in high school, right? Well I'm starting my campaign early." Bridget pulled out her notebook as Krista gave her an incredulous look. "You're campaigning for an event that's still years away by turning yourself into one of _them_?"

When she put it like that it sounded stupid, but if there was one thing Bridget was not, it was stupid. "To become president, you have to be popular. To be popular you have to be accepted by that crowd. See where I'm going with this?" Krista shrugged. "I suppose. What's that?" She leaned over the table to get a look at the rough family tree Bridget was writing out. "My family is so boring. There's only me and three cousins. Yours will probably be the oddest one he's seen."

"That all depends on what I put in it," she muttered. "I can't put in that I have two dads because my biological one didn't want anything to do with us."

"Well you might not want to use those exact words, but there's nothing wrong with your situation."

"_I _know that, but that doesn't mean I should spread it around."

"Why not?"

Bridget gestured her arm in the direction of the parking lot, which was filled with Beamers, Mercedeses, and one really nice Corvette. "Because of that. This place is about money and breeding-"

"And brains, of course."

Bridget raised a brow, which made her friend shrug. "Yeah, well, I'm one out of three. I've got the brains, but I'm here on partial scholarship. If they knew what my family is like, lord knows what my status would be."

"If you're so concerned about it then you'll just have to get creative with the assignment."

"You mean I'm going to have to lie through my teeth."

"May as well get used to the idea if you plan on becoming President."

Bridget laughed and stood to throw out the remnants of her lunch. On her way back from the trash, she passed a couple of boys from her class without offering them a glance. Then one of them spoke. "Hey Bridget." Surprised by the attention, she replied in kind and smiled, but kept moving. "Were you just talking to Jake Grey?" Krista demanded as soon as Bridget sat down. "He just said hi," she replied modestly. Krista snorted and shook her head. "Unbelievable. You pretty yourself up for one day and already you've got the third most popular guy in our class talking to you."

"Third most popular?"

"I have a chart, but that's not the issue. Looks like your little plan's not so misguided."

"When are my ideas ever misguided? When they're good, I mean," she hastily added as the memory of her seventh grade science project -- the early model -- came to mind. Krista rolled her eyes. "It might work, but this plan of yours reflects terribly on the state of our society if you have to fall back on your looks to get what you want."

"Don't be so bitter."

"I'm not the one selling out on her intelligence for something so petty. It makes things much more difficult for the other 97 of the population."

"Give it up, Kris."

"At least my family's _normal_," she teased darkly. Bridget stuck out her tongue. "I always heard that fairies get nasty when provoked. Now I've got proof." Krista gasped indignantly; she absolutely hated being referred to as any sort of small mythical creature. "I hope you...you break out!" They continued their banter for awhile longer before tiring of insulting each other, then moved on to ideas of how to alter her family tree without completely changing it. Of course, Krista didn't know all the details that needed to be adjusted, but Bridget figured those things would be the easiest to gloss over. Despite its problems, the assignment was one she was looking forward to doing. If it was for school, her parents might _finally _open up about their pasts.

* * *

Cordelia finished reading over the proposal she'd just typed up and wondered how everyone would react to the idea. It was the most ambitious one she'd had yet, and the most expensive, but if it worked out like she thought it would, it would be the first step in building the little empire she wanted. Leaning back in her chair with her glass of iced tea, she looked around her office. It was really just one of dozens of converted hotel rooms in a building never meant to be used for what it currently was, and she planned to change that. If everything went according to plan, the Hyperion Hotel would be restored to its former glory and open for business in just over two years. _And from there, who knows? _she thought happily, then frowned as a vision suddenly clouded her mind. She was about to grumble about real life getting in the way of her dreams when she saw just who needed saving, and her heart stopped.

It was Bridget, walking home from school alone, and there was a demon...

Cordelia raced out of her office. "Angel!" She yelled frantically, running into his office just down the hall. "ANGEL!" When she found it empty, she cursed and bolted down to the lobby, pulling out her cell phone along the way. Marek was out of town until tomorrow and Angel wasn't picking up his cell. Because she wasn't looking, she ran right into Wes and hastily filled him in on her vision. "How long do we have?" He demanded. "I don't know!" She replied, panicked. "Fifteen minutes." Fifteen minutes if they were lucky. "It's on Aberdeen, Wes. Three blocks from the house." And then she took off, leaving him to gather the troops. Along the way to her car, she grabbed Frank Martinez, one of the bigger guys. She hadn't actually fought a demon in a long, long time, and even if she had, she wouldn't be able to take the demon in her vision alone. As they roared out of the lot, Frank patted her hand reassuringly. "We'll make it, Cordelia."

Cordy tried to swallow the panic and let the rage she was feeling towards the Powers at that moment take over. The bastards couldn't give her more warning, could they? If _anything _happened to her baby, then the gloves were coming off. The PTB wouldn't see her coming. The normally ten minute drive took six, and she was out of the car before it had completely rolled to a stop. The neighbourhood was occupied by large houses, set back from the road in yards with lots of trees and vegetation. She looked around wildly before noticing her daughter's plaid school uniform skirt peeking out from behind a tree. "Bridget!" She yelled frantically. The skirt moved and her daughter jumped out from her hiding place and raced into her mother's arms. There were sounds of fighting coming from a few yards away but Cordelia ignored it completely, though she did notice Frank take off in that direction.

"Oh, God, baby. Are you okay?"

Bridget nodded. She was pale and shaken up, but otherwise okay. "I was just walking home and it jumped out at me."

"Why were you walking alone?" Cordelia demanded. Bridget's green eyes widened as she explained. "We had soccer tryouts today and they ran late, so I missed the bus and it's not that long a walk. I'm sorry." Cordelia sighed and hugged the girl closer. "It's all right, babe. Okay, so what happened after it jumped out?"

"I screamed and ran and it chased me and then that man just hit it with his car-"

"What man?" Looking around, Cordy noticed the car that was halfway up on the sidewalk, the driver side door hanging open. Bridget motioned to the direction the sounds of the fight were coming from. "He jumped out of the car and told me to hide and then he went after it." Standing, Cordelia fished out her cell phone and handed it to her daughter. "Go sit in the car, lock the doors, and call Wesley to tell him you're okay but we may need clean up and reinforcements." Nodding, Bridget did as she was told. As soon as Cordelia saw her lock the car doors, she took off in the direction of the fight, arriving just in time to see Frank and the mystery man kill the demon. Marching over to the crumpled heap that had tried to attack her daughter, she kicked it extra hard in the head, not caring what it did to her shoes. "Frank, you're okay?" He nodded, a little banged up but just fine.

"Good," she said, then turned to thank the man that had saved her daughter's life. "Thank you so-" She stopped and stared, unable to believe who she was looking at.

"_Xander_?"

He seemed just as surprised to see her. "Cordy? Wow. What are you -- is that girl yours?"

She nodded. "Yeah. My, god, Xander, if you hadn't been here..." she trailed off and did the first thing that came to mind and threw her arms around him. "Thank you! What _are_ you doing here?"

"Actually looking for your house. I was in town on Council business and thought I'd drop by."

"You were just going to drop by? After, what, fourteen years? Has it really been that long?" She wondered briefly after doing the math. She hadn't seen Xander since graduation. After a second, she grinned and embraced him again, this time for another reason. "It is so good to see you!"

"It is?"

"Of course it is! What happened to your eye?"

That caused him to laugh and briefly touch a hand to the eye patch he wore. "There's the Cordy I remember. We obviously have a lot of catching up to do, but maybe there's a better place to do it?" Cordelia then remembered where she was and why she was there and became all business. "You're right. Look, there's Wes and the team." She waved them over and filled Wesley in on what had happened. The team began clean up procedure and took Frank back to the van for first aid. "I'm taking Bridget home, Wes."

"Of course, I'll be by later. Give her my love."

She nodded and started for the car, pausing briefly. "Xander, are you coming or are you just going to practice being a lawn ornament?" Xander rolled his good eye heavenward. "It's like no time has passed at all."

* * *

"There's no way this was random," Angel said as he paced the room. "Middle of the day in that neighbourhood? It was there for a reason." When he'd gotten the message about Bridget, he moved heaven and earth to get himself home while the sun was still blazing, and living in a house with no sewer access made that particularly difficult. Discovering Xander Harris at his kitchen table was a surprise; learning that it was he who saved Bridget was a shock, but figuring out why she was attacked was his priority.

"It was a Jindar demon," Wesley said. "They're not very intelligent, often used as muscle for hire."

"You guys have a lot of enemies?" Asked Xander seriously. Angel half expected there to be a sarcastic crack to follow, but when the man stayed silent, Angel revised his opinion. He had to remember that people changed, and the once-goofy sidekick Xander Harris was apparently one of them. "We have our share," he replied. Frankly, one enemy was too many where the kids were concerned.

"Well how often does this happen?"

That was the part Angel was having trouble with. "Hardly ever. When they were first born up until they were three or four there were constant attacks and kidnap attempts, but it tapered off and hasn't happened in years."

"I never thought about it before," Cordelia said, troubled. "But that worries me. Why _haven't _there been any attacks?" Wesley leaned forward on his elbows. "And why now?"

Everyone paused to mull the question over. "Some kind of prophecy?" Cordelia said, directing it towards Wesley, who specifically had a team on prophesy watch. "Possibly, but I haven't come across any that pertain to the kids or us. Maybe we stepped on some toes with one of the cases and it was a matter of revenge?"

Taking a drink of the beer in front of him, Xander spoke up with the conclusion Angel himself had drawn. "Sounds like you guys got too comfortable and let your guard down, and somebody knew it."

Cordelia nearly snarled. "That means somebody's watching us."

"Which brings you back to that enemies list," Xander said. "Who has the biggest reason and resources to watch you without you knowing it _and _hire a Jindar demon? Those guys do not come cheap. I've, uh, had some experience with them before," he explained at their looks. Having it laid out like that, Angel couldn't believe he didn't realize it before. There was only one person he could think of that fit all the criteria. "Lilah."

She'd been a threat years ago but had gradually morphed into an annoyance that popped into their lives every so often. She hadn't gone after the kids so directly in a long time, though. It was usually an attack directed at him. "That bitch," Cordelia muttered. Immediately Angel grabbed his jacket and Wesley stood up. "We're going to go have a chat with Lilah."

"Be careful," Cordelia cautioned after them as they headed to the door that connected the house to the garage. At that moment he did not care about being careful. His daughter's life had been threatened -- he was out for blood.

Cordelia watched them go and when the door shut she paused a minute before rising to get the phone. Xander shot her a questioning look, but she ignored it. Wasn't like she was calling Lilah to warn her or anything, she was just ordering dinner. "Yeah, can I get five large pizzas?" She filled the order and winced just a little bit as they quoted her the price, as she did every time they ordered in.

"So when do I get to meet him?" Xander asked, motioning to her ring as Cordelia rejoined him on the couch. "That's one hell of a rock."

"Depends on how long you're in town for."

"I was only planning on a couple of days, but I could stay awhile longer. So, is he the rich Donald Trump-type you were pining for in high school?"

Cordelia snorted in derision. Marek was so far from they guy she envisioned herself marrying in high school that it was laughable. "He's not exactly hurting for cash, but Donald Trump he is not. He's got much better hair." Xander laughed. "So where is he now? I'd think that any guy who was about to marry you wouldn't let you out of his sight."

"He's in Turkey, actually. Business. He'll be home in a couple of days."

"Ooh, he travels for business. Must be pretty important." It was said teasingly and Cordelia smirked. "He works with us most of the time." And the rest of the time he was away in some foreign land doing 'work' that he still hadn't explained fully to her. She never believed him to be unfaithful though, and doubted she ever would.

"So is he what you hoped for?"

"Hoped for? Let's dial that back to 'expected'. Remember in high school I had issues about dating you because you were a different...station... than me? Now I'm marrying someone who's a different _species._ He's half-demon." Xander gaped, completely surprised. Then the cat appeared out of nowhere and jumped on his lap, causing him to jump and curse. "That's Selina," Cordelia said carelessly. Calming down, Xander scratched the cat behind her ears. "You, Cordelia Chase, are marrying a half-demon? What kind of freaky Twilight Zone episode am I in?"

"Well, I mean, it's like calling the kettle black, right?"

"Huh?"

"I can't not be with him cuz he's half-demon because I'd be a total hypocrite, being part demon myself and all... you knew that." She said as his jaw dropped. "I swear you knew that."

"No. We haven't talked in a long time, Cordy. Wanna fill me in?"

She did, and was surprised that he took it so well. He didn't freak out once, asked calm, logical questions, and laughed when she told him her initial fears of tails and horns. "You're so different," she mused after telling her story. "You used to be this big spaz -- no offense -- but now you're so, I don't know..."

"Grown up?" He offered with a quirky smile. She laughed. "Yeah. When did that happen? When did we grow up?"

"I'd say you grew up when you had those kids, but I'd be just guessing."

He'd be guessing wrong. She was still very immature after she had the kids. It had taken quite awhile for her to accept everything, but that was no longer an issue. "So what about you? Married? Any little Xanders running around?"

"Nah, no little Xanders, which is probably why I got divorced. I was married for a couple of years, but she wanted kids and I didn't at the time. Work got in the way a lot too." He wasn't bitter or hurting, at least not that she could see. To him, his divorce and the circumstances surrounding it were just facts of life. There was something in his eyes, though. A shadow of something, and he looked tired. Circles under his eyes (well, eye); a general weariness hanging over him like a cloak.

"Have you ever tried to fix that?" She motioned to his eye patch. "There must be a spell or something."

"Nah. I've thought about it, but it's been gone so long that it would be weird to have it back. Plus, I don't want to risk any funky side effects."

"So how did you lose it, anyway?"

As Xander launched into the story, Cordelia tucked her legs up and smiled contentedly. She hadn't realized that she actually missed the people from her past, and seeing Xander again made her forget about the stresses of her regular life. And she liked this new version of her ex. He was calm and collected and comfortable; something that was so absent from her life that she barely had time to recognize the qualities before becoming utterly delighted with them.

As Cordelia and Xander caught up, Bridget holed up in her bedroom with all of her siblings. When she'd come home all freaked out and had told them what happened, they had all latched onto her protectively and hadn't left her side since. After exhausting conversation on the attack, Bridget had moved on to telling them about her assignment. "This is the perfect way to figure out Mom and Dad's pasts."

"Mom's isn't that hard," said Darren from his spot on Bridget's desk chair. "I'm way more interested in dad's. He's been around for, what, two hundred and fifty years? Can you imagine the kinds of stuff he did and saw?"

"Especially considering the he was evil for most of that time," added Libby. Bridget nodded in agreement to what they'd said, especially Libby. They knew virtually nothing about their Dad the vampire, just that he'd gotten his soul at the turn of the twentieth century and had dated a Slayer back when their mom was in high school with her. The idea that there were centuries that their Dad had lived and was making an effort to keep from them only made all six of them crave the information more.

"So how do you plan to find that stuff out?" Ivy commented as she put on some of Bridget's lip gloss and studied the result in the mirror. "We've been trying for years to get them to tell us something, and you know how well that's gone." Bridget glared and flung an errant pillow at her sister. "Put that down. I don't know, I figured that they'd open up a bit because it's for school and maybe because we're older now." At that, she got five identical looks of what she interpreted to be disbelief at her naiveté. "Fine, then you guys come up with something."

Noah, who'd been silent for some time, locked in his quiet thinking mode, spoke up. "We ask Xander. He's known them both for years and doesn't know what Mom and Dad don't want us to know." Bridget grinned. Noah was the calmest, most levelheaded of the lot of them and because of it often came up with the most devious plans; ones he wasn't averse to using for the greater good. Pleased with the plan, Bridget nodded in determination. "Alright, we'll get him after dinner."

Xander never saw them coming. Ivy, Libby and Darren distracted Cordelia, Caleb kept lookout for Angel and Wes, and Bridget and Noah quickly (and with an efficiency Xander would later marvel over) interrogated their mother's old flame. It didn't take him long to get wise to them and clam up, but not before he'd divulged some key information.

The Watcher Diaries.


	20. ch 20

The thing Noah liked most about his house was his bedroom. Since it was up in the attic and out of the way, it seemed that everyone forgot it was even there, save for Libby whose own room shared the space. Because it was out of the way, he could go there to escape the noise and chaos of the household and just _think_ -- and lately he had plenty to think about: Bridget getting attacked, his upcoming thirteenth birthday, and most importantly, how to liberate those Watcher Diaries from his father.

Having his sister attacked by a demon had been jarring. It had made him realize that their parents weren't always going to be there to protect them from the monsters and that the stories his mom and dad came home with at the end of the day weren't just stories, they were frighteningly real. And that, of course, had made him think of all the oblivious people out there and whether or not it was better to know the truth. It had gotten him in such a twist that he'd wound up being sent to the nurse's office because his teacher thought he'd developed a headache. From his end that incident had been amusing, but he figured a little bit of him had grown up at the realizations that day.

In just a few weeks a lot more of him would be 'grown up', according to every person over the age of thirteen that he knew. They all said that becoming a teenager was this huge milestone and that he wasn't a kid anymore and wasn't it just so damn exciting? Noah snorted at the thought. Becoming a teenager just meant extra stress and confusion and a huge influx of hormones that would make the next five years just plain miserable. Mentally he was already well into his twenties -- at least, that's how it often felt when he was with other kids his age, including most of his siblings. Bridget and Libby were the exceptions but Bee was too wrapped up in her own life to really acknowledge his existence half the time.

From where he lay stretched out on his bed, Noah's gaze drifted to the closed door that was directly opposite the door to Libby's bedroom. Now _she _was the one person he felt could relate to him and his views on the teenager thing. Libby simply didn't have time for the drama and really didn't care enough to bother with thinking about the things that his other sisters, and lately even his friend, Mia, had started dwelling on. Libby was too focused, too aloof, to really fit in amongst her peers, and it somehow made her seem years older than she was. Age was a funny thing, he mused as he stared at the constellations of sticky-stars on his ceiling. He felt ancient at thirteen, yet his dad _was _ancient but only looked about thirty.

Lately he'd found his mind increasingly preoccupied with the idea of uncovering his father's past -- ever since Xander had said those two little words: Watcher Diaries. By nature Noah liked to know things, and to be out of the loop on something so big, so close to home, irked him. He didn't know exactly what kind of information the Diaries held, but he had a hunch. And when Noah Chase had a hunch, there was nothing he wouldn't do to follow it through. Problem was, he thought with a frustrated sigh, he had run out of ideas. He'd researched for days but had turned up nothing; he'd tried questioning all his parents and family as subtly as he could without coming right out and asking for what he wanted. That approach would only work if he didn't actually care about getting answers, and for some reason – one he did not understand – Noah wanted them. He wanted answers to questions that he'd never really thought of until very, very recently. But as his dad, Wesley, said, he had an inquisitive mind, and inquisitive minds were never satisfied. However, the more he thought about it, the fewer ideas he came up with.

After awhile longer of staring at the ceiling and coming up with more questions than plans, Noah heard the muffled sounds of someone moving around across the hall and after another second or two, low strains of music filtered through the walls. Instantly Noah was on his feet – Libby was the answer to his dilemma. His sister was the only one he'd consider asking for help and he knew she'd be glad to give it.

"Lib?" He stuck his head in the door after knocking to find his sister on her bed doing homework and April sitting on the floor stretching. Both girls looked up at the sound of his voice and he took that as an invitation. "I need your help with something." Libby obviously knew of Bridget's assignment and of the Watcher Diaries, but she didn't yet understand how much he wanted to be the one to find them. He told her of his problem and waited almost anxiously while his sister mulled it over.

"You could always just ask your dad," April suggested as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Noah gave her a 'yeah right' look, to which she shrugged and resumed her stretching (she was a serious ballet dancer and practised or stretched only when she wasn't sleeping or eating). April and Libby had been best friends since they'd met at that birthday party years before and April was almost as much a sister to him as any of them.

"Well," said Libby after a few moments of deliberation. "We need to figure out where he's keeping them, right? At the hotel or at his house?"

Noah had actually thought of that, and said as much. "Yeah, I'm thinking the office. I just can't think of how to get in to search for them without getting caught. If they're not there, it'll be a lot easier to look around his house." As he and Libby hammered out a plan to search Wesley's office at the Hyperion, Noah ignored the tiny little voice at the back of his mind that told him what he was doing wasn't exactly right. It popped up every time he found himself planning something that could get him in trouble. It was irritating and inconvenient, but he forced himself to remember that his conscience was something that separated him from the beasts, as his mother had once told him. It was the one piece of advice she'd given him that always stuck out in his mind because he could _see _it in everyone, even his siblings, and that worried him.

He wasn't entirely sure they all had the same moral fibre (a Sheila expression) that he seemed to possess, and the thought of his brothers and sisters stepping over the wrong side of the line between good and bad terrified him. Like Libby, for example. She was his favourite sister; his best friend, and she didn't seem at all perturbed by the idea of doing something wrong if it meant making things easier or if it got her something. The only thing that eased his mind a little was the fact that she didn't go out of her way looking for an excuse to be bad, unlike _some_ of his siblings.

"What?" Libby demanded suddenly, giving him the raised-eyebrow look of contempt that had long been her trademark. Noah was confused. "Huh?"

"You looked at me like I just died or something."

"Oh." _No, I'm just worried about your eternal soul. _He cleared his throat to cover the snort that escaped at the thought. "So you'll do it this weekend?" He said, running their plan through once again. Libby was going to search their dad's office after her session with Marek. She was a common enough sight around the office that no one would look at her twice.

"Yeah, while Dad and Wes are training you guys." Lately Libby had taken to calling their father by his first name except when addressing him directly. It didn't bother him, but Noah couldn't bring himself to follow her example – he always felt that it was something that would really hurt his dad's feelings.

"God, I wish I could be there for that," Libby said suddenly, grinning from ear to ear. From her spot on the floor, April laughed. "Could you imagine watching Bridget try to fight?" At the thought, Noah smirked just a little. The idea of Bridget attempting to fight was funny – she'd probably just try and order the demon to die. _Or she'll be perfect at it, just like everything else._ Shaking his head at the thought, Noah chastised himself for even _sounding _jealous when he was nothing of the sort. If his sister was good at defending herself then all the better. He thought that his parents wanting them to all learn basic defence was a good idea and was surprised that it had taken an attack on one of them to get the ball rolling.

"Hello? What's the weather like up there?"

Once again confused, Noah tilted his head quizzically. Libby rolled her eyes. "It's a good thing I'm doing the dirty work. You'd probably start daydreaming and get locked in a closet or something." A mild flush traveled up Noah's neck but he ignored the barb. He knew she wasn't serious, but the fact that she loved to point out his tendency to get lost in thought at the most inappropriate times (a sore spot of his) was really aggravating.

"Leaving now," He said mildly and turned for the door, and was fully unprepared for the attack that followed. "Baby!" Said a giggling Libby as she jumped on his back and wrestled him to the floor. He replied with an 'oomph' as he hit the hardwood and started trying to escape her iron hold. The fight eventually ended with his sister shrieking with laughter and threats of dismemberment if he didn't stop tickling her. He grinned madly and all but dove across the hall into his own room before she tried to reclaim victory. "Saturday!" He said through the crack in the doorway. Still flushed and hiccupping from the laughter, Libby nodded. "Saturday."

Much more at ease with the situation, Noah pulled out his journal and began his daily entry. He wasn't dumb enough to put anything incriminating down on paper; he just wrote the everyday stuff, like how much fun Libby could be when she wanted. The Libby that just about everyone else saw was aloof and strong and mature; they didn't get to see her act like a silly little girl. She didn't like to show people that part of her; he was one of the only people who knew it existed.

And just like everything else, that worried him a little. Frustrated with his overwhelming concern for everything related to his siblings' lives, Noah forced himself to look on the positive side of Libby's personality -- if anyone could pull the plan off, it was her. She'd find those Diaries before anyone knew she'd looked.

* * *

"Nothing?" The first thing that came to Noah's mind when Libby turned up empty-handed was a particularly nasty curse. He didn't say it aloud, of course, but it sure as hell made him feel better to shout it in his mind. "That's just great," he mumbled and dropped face-first onto his bed. This was the perfect topper to a crap day. He'd failed a quiz, received his first detention ever for inadvertently insulting his teacher and had served as punching bag in his first training session that afternoon. 

"Well, not _nothing_," Libby amended. "There was some pretty cool stuff, actually, but no Diaries. Looks like we're on to Plan B."

Noah grunted his agreement into his pillow. The stupid thing was that there actually was a Plan B. He was meticulous enough a planner to have several backups and this time was no different. He just felt like feeling sorry for himself at least once. "Okay," he said, flipping over onto his back. "If we're doing Plan B then we need Bridget." His backup required searching their Dad's house, and to do that they needed a plausible reason to visit. Libby left to collect their sister and Noah dug out the scrapbook that he kept well hidden. He flipped through the pages that contained every scrap of information he'd been able to dig up on his family, and seeing the wealth of blank pages was all the reinforcement he needed to tell his conscience to hit the road on this one.

The heavy footsteps coming up the stairs prompted him to shove the book under his bed and away from prying eyes. It wasn't that Noah didn't want to share it with his siblings – they all knew the same information as he, after all – but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to pull out the book when they were around. It was _his_, and when one had so many brothers and sisters, something of your very own was rare.

"So what's going on?" Bridget demanded as soon as she'd stepped in the room. Her irritation was evident – it was likely that Libby had pulled her away from one of the many projects she was always working on. Still, Noah noted that there was a hint interest in her voice and figured it was there only because he didn't often make a point of singling Bridget out to speak to one-on-one.

"We have a plan to get those Diaries," he began quietly, seriously. Noah didn't waste time on games. "And we need your help." Bridget's irritation vanished as she looked from Libby, whose expression hovered between unreadable and smug, to Noah, who was dead serious.

"What do you need me to do?"

* * *

"Hey guys!" Fred held open the door with a huge grin as Noah trailed in after Bridget. The pair of them replied with smiles that weren't all together innocent. Bridget put her bag on the kitchen table and began unloading her stuff. "Thanks for doing this, Auntie." 

"Honey, you don't have to thank me. I should be thanking you – I'm honoured that you're doing your assignment on me." Fred winked at Noah. "What did your sister have to do to get you to come along?"

"I like watching Chris," he assured his aunt-slash-stepmom with his most charming smile. Plan B was a simple concept: Bridget would go over to their Dad's house to interview Fred for her family tree project and Noah would go along to keep an eye on their three year old half-brother so Bee could have their aunt's undivided attention. And while Bridget had Fred occupied, Noah would park Chris in front of the TV and search the house for the Diaries. Simple.

"So do you want to do this in here or in the living room?"

"Here," Noah answered for his sister, flashing her an apologetic look when she glared. The kitchen was at the back of the house and out of the way; the living room was too close to everything. "Chris and I might make too much noise."

Fred nodded. "Good thinking. Ooh, is that a tape recorder?" Noah nearly laughed as Bridget set the tiny recorder in the center of the table. He wasn't surprised, though. Bridget was every inch the professional and the fact that she was participating in a nefarious plot didn't detract her attention from her homework. His sister smiled blandly and seated herself at the small table. "Shall we get started?"

Fred looked like she was trying very hard not to crack and subsequently offend Bee by laughing. Noah was impressed as his aunt pressed her lips into a serious line and sat across from Bridget. "Absolutely. Oh, Noah, Chris is still down for his nap. He should be out for another half hour or so, so why don't you watch TV or something until then?"

Barely suppressing his glee at the good fortune, Noah nodded. "Sure. I'll look in on him in a bit." In the meantime, Noah had some searching to do.

The first place he searched was his dad's office, and twenty minutes into his search he stumbled across something even more intriguing than any diary: a file with his name printed on it. Casting a quick glance to the office door, Noah pulled the cabinet drawer out further and flipped through the folders. He didn't know what to feel when he realized that there were files on everyone in his family; some so thin it looked like there was nothing inside, others bursting with papers.

Jackpot!

He forgot completely about the Diaries as he pulled out the thickest file in the lot -- his father's. But, of course, before he could even open it, the baby monitor he'd been carrying around crackled to life and Noah heard his little brother calling for someone. With a growl of frustration, Noah shoved the file back in its rightful place and hurried out of the room to get Chris, fully intending to get back to those files the second he could ditch Chris to one of his videos.

The opportunity never came. Chris wouldn't let Noah out of his sight and there was only so long Bridget could drag out the interview. He left the house angrier than he'd ever felt; angry at his little brother, at being _so _close and losing the prime opportunity, at the whole situation in general. If his parents didn't keep so many secrets about their lives then none of this would be an issue.

One thing was for sure -- Noah was getting those files, no matter what it took.

* * *

"Are you sure you want to do this?" 

It was the Saturday following the discovery and Noah found himself skulking around the bushes of his dad's house with Libby, about to break in and look at the files. Noah nodded resolutely, his friendly little voice of reason nowhere in the vicinity. It wasn't technically breaking in, seeing as they had a key and were always allowed to come and go at the Wyndham-Price household, but the fact that his dad and Fred were at Disneyland for the whole day with Chris made it seem illegal.

He would have stolen the Crown jewels if it meant getting those files.

He strode up to the front door, more determined than ever. "Come on." Libby shook her head in disbelief. "Ooo-kay. You're obsessed, you know that, right?"

"Tell me you're not dying to read them," he countered defensively, pleased when she only shrugged. He turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open. "That's what I thought."

"Oh, get over it." She snapped as they crept through the house. Stealth really wasn't required but neither could consider tromping through the place they'd just broken into.

The office was just as Noah had left it days before. Files stacked neatly on Wesley's desk and in haphazard piles on Fred's. Books lined the shelves, broken up here and there by some trinket or artefact on display. Filing cabinets were set up on either side of the room and between them sat a small copier/printer. It looked like any office Noah had ever seen on TV and he found that he liked the atmosphere, but at that very moment he saw nothing but the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet on the left side of the room.

"He's got everybody in here!" Libby exclaimed once they were seated on the floor in front of the open drawer. Noah immediately went for his dad's file while Libby flipped through the rest. "Mom," she murmured. "Us, Uncle Gunn, Marek..." Her voice morphed into nothing more than white noise as Noah scanned the first page in the file. It looked like basic stats but it contained more information on his father than he'd managed to scrape together over the last few years on his own.

Birth Name: Liam (surname unknown)

Born: July 1726, Galway, Ireland

Turned: 1753 (sired by Darla)

Aliases: Angel, Angelus

Angelus. That was a name Noah had never heard, and he'd never really considered that someone had had to actually _make_ his father into a vampire. His mind whirling, Noah read on. There were notes alluding to Angel as a human and if they were accurate, it looked like his dad wasn't all that great a person. "This says that Dad was basically a drunk womanizer when he was human," Noah commented quietly. Libby looked up from the file on her lap. "You got all that and you're still on the first page?"

"Whose are you looking at?" He wondered if all the files contained information like Angel's.

"Mom's. So far there's nothing really good...hey! Dennis! I forgot about him."

So had Noah, but the ghost their mother had lived with years before didn't interest him at the moment. He thumbed through the pages, drinking in the information. It wasn't until he was about halfway through that notes on the Angelus alias started popping up. Words jumped out at him that had his curiosity piqued and his blood running cold. Words like _psychotic_ and _extremely dangerous _(extremely had been underlined several times), and _torture_.

"Lib, do you know what scourge means?"

She thought about it for a second. "Nope. Why?"

"This says that before Dad got his soul he was called the Scourge of Europe." She frowned and leaned over a bit. "That doesn't sound good." Noah shook his head and filled her in on what he'd read of the Angelus persona. She raised her brow. "Huh." Then she got up and scanned the bookshelves briefly before plucking a dictionary off them and thumbing through the pages. "How is it spelled?" He told her and waited with bated breath as she landed on the appropriate page.

"A source of widespread dreadful affliction and devastation such as that caused by pestilence or war."

They exchanged an identical look of troubled shock. "What else does it say in there?" Libby asked warily. "Not much," Noah admitted. "There isn't a lot of detail." Then, after a contemplative second, he added, "We need to take this."

"Too risky. He'll notice it gone right away."

At the same time they zeroed in on the copier and Noah got to his feet. While he did that, Libby pulled another file out of the drawer. "Oh my god," she exclaimed after only a minute. "Noah... his name is in here. Our biological father."

Noah's jaw dropped. The name of their biological father was one piece of information he'd been trying to get since he was ten years old. "Who is he?" He demanded. "Whose file is that?"

"It's mine. His name is Wilson Christopher." She read on quickly, her eyes freezing on one spot almost immediately. "Holy... We need to make copies of this one too; of all of these."

Noah did not question her and wordlessly took the file she held out to him. "What is it?" he asked, concerned at the sheer shock in her eyes. Libby rarely let her emotions show so obviously. "It said we were a one night stand and that Mom was only pregnant for twenty-four hours. Noah, it said that our father was a demon."

* * *

Demon. His biological father was a demon. Noah stared at himself in the mirror over his dresser searching his features for hints of his father. Was it there in his dark hair or his straight nose? What about the line of his jaw or the shoulders that were just beginning to fill out?

No. Maybe.

Was it there in his eyes?

Yes.

The strangely brilliant green eyes that his mother definitely did not have. Were they just luck of the gene pool or were they somehow more sinister?

"Noah?" Libby poked her head in the room. He didn't tear his eyes away from his reflection. She moved to stand next to him and stared at the pair of their reflections for a moment. "It doesn't matter if we look like him," she said.

"Yes it does, Libby. He is a _demon_ -- what if we start growing tails or something?" It was unlikely, he told himself, but not impossible. They'd inherited their eye colour from him; what else had he passed along? Did they have weird dormant abilities just waiting to manifest? Were they going to suddenly turn evil?

"First of all," Libby said dryly. "We have no idea what kind of demon he is, so we have no idea what he looks like, and second, not all demons are evil." He wasn't surprised that she knew what he was thinking, but he was ashamed at the direction his thoughts had gone in. "I know! I just..."

His sister's tone softened. "Yeah, I know. I just think we shouldn't jump to conclusions just yet. We should look at all the information we have first and take it from there." Now he felt stupid for overreacting. Normally he was the voice of logic and reason, and the fact that this time his emotions had clouded his mind so severely made him wince in embarrassment.

"You're right." He handed her half the stack of photocopied files and she sank to the floor with the pile. He vaguely noticed that she was still wearing her workout clothes, having just finished her session with Marek. He pulled his own file from the stack and started reading. "How was training?" He asked off-hand.

"Pretty crappy, actually."

The chagrined reply had him glancing at her in surprise. She didn't take her eyes off the paper in her lap. He smirked just a little. "Too much on your mind?"

"Yeah, _you_. I was worried you were going to do something stupid." Despite the chilly tone, Noah knew she'd been genuinely concerned and felt bad for causing her distress but glad that she'd been thinking of his well being for once instead of the other way around. He smiled a little and got back to his reading. By the time he'd read every scrap of information in his file he was less unsettled than before but had many, many more questions.

"So they did tests when we were babies," Libby said, stating aloud what they'd both read. Noah frowned and finished her thought. "And we're human."

Libby nodded. "Completely."

"What the hell?" Noah snorted. This made no sense whatsoever. According to the files their father was a demon yet they were completely human. "You know what we have to do?"

"We can't ask them," she said as if he were an idiot.

"We can't ask _them_, but..."

"You don't mean this Wilson Christopher guy, do you?"

It was exactly what he meant, but by the look on his sister's face she did not think the idea was a good one. "Why not?" He asked.

"He could be dangerous. He could tell you all the things you don't want to hear. I just don't think it's a good idea."

"I guess."

Her eyes glinted almost dangerously. "Noah, promise me..." He would never go as far as saying he was afraid of his sister, but she could be intimidating as hell. He sighed heavily, mentally apologizing in advance. "Alright, I won't go."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Thank you," she said. "Now let's see that file on Dad."

Later that night when the rest of the household was asleep, Noah worked diligently at his computer. For hours he'd been researching anything he could find on Angelus and Angel and had received more hits than he'd expected. Some of the sites regarded him as some sort of caped avenger while others only contained the barest mention of the atrocities preformed by the so-called Scourge of Europe. It was frustrating that he couldn't find the kind of information he wanted, and the one site that piqued his interest the most required _five _passwords to even gain access to the home page. He didn't have the slightest clue as to the type of information the website might contain as the only indication to its content were the initials W.C.D. on the portal page above the spaces for the passwords.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered and stifled a yawn. A glance at his alarm clock showed it was well past one in the morning. He decided to end his research session for the night, but just before he shut down his computer, he hesitated. What would it hurt to do a little web search on the man who had fathered him?

Guilty and with a glance over his shoulder to his closed bedroom door, Noah typed the name Wilson Christopher into the search engine. The hits were in the dozens, which surprised him. Their content surprised him more. Apparently their biological father had been a fashion photographer once upon a time, and a famous one at that. He'd also, Noah discovered, been accused of statutory rape on two different accounts and had dropped from the public eye shortly after.

When he made it to bed that night, Noah didn't sleep at all.


	21. ch 21

A/N: I know it's been awhile since the last update, but I've recently regained interest in the story.  
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Angel couldn't quite fathom how it had happened without his noticing, but his babies were teenagers. November third was the most important day of his year, and this particular one was especially significant. "Thirteen years old," he muttered that November morning as he prepared their favourite breakfasts. "Teenagers. Unbelievable." In truth he was thrilled -- and terrified. His own thirteenth birthday had been a milestone in a lot of ways, none of them good. That day had marked the beginning of his drunken-womanizing-waste-of-air period, one which had culminated in his death and the beginning of an even worse period of existence.

_Enough of that, today is **their** day._

So he turned the radio to his favourite station and whistled along with the easy rock as he topped Darren's Belgian waffles with strawberries. Just as he was finishing up a heaping plate of French toast, the kids began to filter into the kitchen. He beamed at them as they shuffled to the table. "Happy Birthday, guys!" When he got a few mumbled thank-yous, he frowned. "How about a little enthusiasm?" Ivy, who looked the most cheerful, grinned around her toast. "I'm enthusiastic, Daddy. Believe me, this is already my best birthday ever."

"Why's that, pumpkin?"

She grinned even wider but managed to make him feel like an idiot for asking with one look. "Because we're finally teenagers. I've only been waiting for this my entire life!"

"Duh," Libby muttered. Ivy ignored her and continued on while Angel listened intently. All the parenting-of-adolescents books explained that whenever your teen talked, you listened and gleaned any and all pertinent information from their unfamiliar babble and jargon. "And this weekend is going to rock!"

"Yeah, if I can get Uncle Lorne to agree on a band," Bridget said with irritation, and it was then that he noticed the phone that had been glued to her ear all week. "Wait -- a band?" When had they agreed on a band? Cordelia would have said something for sure. "This party is just going to be a few friends over for pizza and music and stuff, right?" Bridget looked at him dismissively. "Yeah, basically, except we changed a couple things."

"What things?" He demanded with suspicion. But Lorne had apparently returned to his end of the conversation and Bridget ignored Angel in favour of her uncle. He briefly wondered how Lorne had even managed to get included in the planning of their birthday party before being drawn into another part of the discussion; this one between Darren and Caleb.

"Yeah, she's totally hot," Caleb was saying. "Is she coming on Saturday?"

"Please," Darren said smugly. "Who're you talking to?"

Angel stared at his sons, completely gobsmacked. Was he seriously hearing what he thought he was? As nonchalantly as possible, he tuned into the pair more attentively. They continued on briefly about Darren's apparent prowess with the ladies before switching gears. "Did you hear about Damian?" Caleb said quietly.

"Ivy's Damian?"

Angel's eye twitched. _Ivy's Damian_? What the hell did that mean?

"Yeah, he got busted for taking his mom's car."

Darren snorted. "The loser seriously got caught? What a tool."

The blood was rushing in his ears now and Angel was at a total loss for words. He could only look helplessly at the strangers where his children used to sit. Even Libby and Noah were engaged in a very quiet argument, the contents of which Angel didn't like.

"You promised you weren't going to," Libby hissed heatedly. Noah sighed and looked as guilty as Angel had imagined himself looking back when he'd first got his soul. "I know," he replied softly. "But I _have _to, Lib. You know how long I've been waiting for this." Libby glared mutinously at her brother, but Angel could tell the second that she caved in. Noah looked relieved; Angel felt like an ulcer had suddenly formed in his stomach. He heard Cordy coming down the hall and headed her off before she reached the kitchen. "Angel, what-" She began when he grabbed her arm and steered her towards the basement. He'd be moving out after Cordelia and Marek finally got married in January but for now the basement was still his place, and the one area of his life that he felt totally comfortable in. Cordelia crossed her arms and gave him a look. "Angel, _what _is this all about?"

"Those are not my children!" He claimed hotly, flinging an arm in the general direction of the kitchen. He filled her in on what he'd overheard and waited for her to be as upset as he. When she only frowned Angel didn't let himself feel betrayed: at least she seemed disapproving, and that meant she was on his side. She expelled a breath and looked to be mulling things over in her mind. "Okay….a band for the party shouldn't be a big deal, but I'll talk to Bee about it. If we have to pay for it then it's a no go." Angel nodded his agreement, but Bridget was the least of his worries. "I want to know what they meant by 'Ivy's Damian'. Do you think she has a boyfriend? She is absolutely way too young for a boyfriend!"

"Calm down. You're right, but you have to calm down. We don't know anything for sure yet, so we'll talk to them."

"Do you think they'll be honest with us?"

"I hope so. We raised them well, didn't we? We should be able to trust them."

This time it was Angel who crossed his arms and gave a look. "Don't you remember what you were like as a teen?" Cordelia smiled. "I was popular, and being popular isn't a bad thing."

"You were ruthless," he corrected. "And I was useless and went out of my way to disobey my father. What makes you think they'll be different? _Especially _with us as parents."

"Hey, we've both come a long way, give yourself some credit. We made mistakes and learned from them. We just have to make sure they learn from us too." Angel thought once more about the things he'd overheard from his children, and decided that he and Cordy needed a serious game plan if they planned to survive the teen years. "Alright, for now we talk to them and pay more attention to what they do. After that we play it by ear." Cordy checked her watch and nodded. "Sounds good to me, but why don't we have that talk after dinner tonight? They'll be too stuffed with cake and spoiled with the presents to put up too much of a fight."

"Deal." He was pleased by the idea of seeing his kids happy on their birthday, but decided to get started right away on 'paying more attention' -- he was a private investigator after all; may as well put those skills to use.  
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It took Noah three attempts to actually ring the bell, and when he did he fought to keep his feet planted on the doorstep of the low-rent apartment that housed his biological father. He heard movement inside and after what seemed like an eternity the door was flung open and he was greeted with the sight of an out of shape former photographer in nothing but old jeans and two days worth of stubble. "What do you want, kid?" Wilson Christopher asked impatiently. "If you're selling anything, I'm not buying."

"I'm not." Noah cleared his throat. "Selling anything, I mean. I need to talk to you for a minute, if that's okay. It's kind of important." He waited while Wilson sized him up and was distinctly uncomfortable to see those familiar green eyes looking at him from a different face. "Make it quick." He stepped aside to allow Noah entrance, and he couldn't help but think that Libby might have had a sharp comeback to that. He could practically hear his sister's voice: _Yeah, cuz he's obviously got a full day of getting tanked and watching TV ahead of him. _

"My name's Noah Chase." The mention of his last name didn't ignite a spark of recognition in the guy's eyes and Noah was almost crushed with disappointment. "My mother is Cordelia Chase."

"Who? Oh yeah…" Now he looked like he remembered, and apparently didn't like it. "How's she doing?"

"Fine. I just turned thirteen on Monday," he hinted again, praying that this guy would get the message. Noah hadn't ridden forty five minutes on the bus to an unfamiliar part of town for this guy to scratch his head and send Noah on his way with nothing answered. Wilson smiled tightly. "Good for you." Noah shook his head. "Do you get what I'm trying to say here or do I need to draw you a map? You're my _father_."

Wilson sighed and sank into a frayed recliner before reaching for a cigarette. "Yeah, I figured." He was silent for a few moments and half the cigarette was gone before he spoke again. "Your mother actually let you come down here?" Noah shook his head and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his best jeans. Wilson snorted. "Didn't think so. So why'd you come?" Looking at the man who'd fathered him, Noah was suddenly unsure why he'd bothered. In the beginning he'd come because he wanted to see what kind of man Wilson Christopher was to sleep with random girls in the name of some demon (that information had been in his mother's file). "I wanted to know."

Wilson didn't ask what it was exactly that Noah had come searching for. Instead he went to the fridge and pulled out a beer and unknowingly living up to the stereotypical image Noah had in his mind. "You want a drink or something? I have some pop."

"Okay." He took the can of cola and sipped at it. "Why'd you do it?" He asked suddenly, laying his cards on the table. Wilson cracked the beer open and took a swig. "What, leave your mother when she was pregnant?"

"No, why'd you knock her up for some demon?"

That surprised the man enough to have him sputter on his drink. "She told you that?" Noah didn't answer, choosing not to reveal that Cordelia hadn't said a word to him. At Noah's silence, Wilson ran a hand through his hair and collected himself. "Look, kid, I'm not going to lie to you. I did it for the sex; what came afterwards didn't really matter to me." He shrugged. "It was a really shitty thing to do, but I was an asshole. I thought that the kids -- you -- were gonna be demon spawn."

"Not asshole spawn?" Noah countered dryly, mildly surprised that he'd said it but glad he had. Wilson cracked a smile and finished off his cigarette. "So what happened? Are you demon? You don't look it."

"No, we're human."

"Oh. We?"

"There's six of us."

"Shit. She kept all of you?"

Noah didn't know how to react to that. Was he insinuating that Cordelia had been stupid to keep them? "Yes, she kept all of us," he snapped angrily. "You know she was only nineteen?" He added, simply hoping to make Wilson feel guilty. "And could hardly afford to pay for herself, let alone six babies? While you were, what, taking pictures of models and probably rolling in money." He didn't know where it was all coming from, but Noah just let his anger and sense of injustice bubble out. He didn't bother to mention that Angel and Wesley had been there, he just wanted to make this bum feel even worse. Wilson barked out a laugh. "And look how well that turned out. My career's in the shitter and I bet your mom did all right with herself."

"Yes she did," Noah agreed, his anger mostly spent. "Really good." He decided that he'd got what he came for and stood. "I should go. I guess I won't bother you again." Wilson stood as well. "Hang on, kid," and disappeared into another room, leaving Noah alone to dig through his bag for the photo he'd brought. Wilson returned moment later with a black bag in his hand that resembled a fancy lunch bag. He held it out to Noah. "Here, maybe you can use this. Not like I have any use for it anymore." Inside was an expensive looking, if slightly out dated, camera. Noah was too surprised to speak for a moment, and when he did it came out in a stutter. "Wow, th-thanks." He cleared his throat and handed over the picture of the six of them that was taken on their birthday a few days before. "Thought you might like to see what your kids look like." Wilson took it and spent a long moment staring. Afterward he stuck it in his pocket and took up his beer. "See ya around, kid."

Noah knew he'd likely never see the man again. "Yeah." He let himself out and walked back to the bus stop, the camera bag heavy in his hand.


	22. ch 22

A/N: I apologize if this chapter has a somewhat different tone than the others. I was trying to set up personality markers (I guess you could say) for future chapters.

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Bridget was about ready to have a nervous breakdown. The party was set to begin in just an hour and the band hadn't arrived yet. "That's what you get for hiring your friend's cousin," she grumbled and tried to organize the food table. The band was actually very good and was comprised of some of the most popular boys from the high school on her campus. It was really quite the coup to have them play her birthday. Lorne came out of the house looking inappropriately calm and carrying a large punch bowl that was going to act as an ice cooler for drinks. "The band still isn't here yet," she said with a touch of panic in her voice. "People will start showing up soon and the band _isn't here_!"

Lorne put down the punch bowl and slung an arm around her shoulders in a half-hug. "Calm down, lamb chop, they'll be here any minute. This place looks great!" He gushed, circling the backyard. The place was decorated too tastefully to seem like a kiddie party, for which Bridget was immensely grateful. There was even a mini stage set up for the band if they bothered to show. Bridget didn't know whether to be embarrassed or mad when she heard a car pull up in the drive and loud male voices bickering as they unloaded the van. She flung open the gate and went out to meet them. "You're late." The one hauling drums out of the van glared at the lead singer, Chad Doherty, and explained. "Chad lost the directions. Where do we set up?"

"In the back. Come on." She led them into the yard and was pleased when they commented on how cool the place looked. When a couple of them gushed about an actual stage, she let herself relax. "I have to go finish things up and get ready. If you need anything, somebody will be in the kitchen." When she realized there was nothing left to do, she went up to her room to get dressed. It had taken an entire day to find the right outfit (which her mother had been more than happy to shop for) and she pulled the dress out of the garment bag and put it on. When she'd finished her hair and makeup, she surveyed herself in the mirror. _Definitely not a kid, _she decided, pleased with the way she looked. For once she tried not to feel self-conscious of the boobs and extra little bit of padding she carried around, and knew enough now to convincingly smooth out her suddenly spotty complexion with makeup. The doorbell sounded and Bridget hurried down the stairs to let the first of her guests in. She was disappointed to find Noah's friends, Russ and Sam, on the doorstep but then realized that anyone who was remotely cool wouldn't show up so early.

"In the back, guys. Noah's probably out there already."

He was, as was the rest of her siblings. Bridget noted that she was the only one to have really dressed up for the occasion and felt immensely pleased to know she looked much prettier than Ivy, who was in her jeans-and-tank top uniform, and Libby, who wore workout pants and a bandanna tied around her short hair. The band was set up and doing some sort of equipment check, and the sun was on its way down. Saturday afternoon birthday parties were so juvenile, and Bridget Chase was absolutely not juvenile so she'd fought for a nighttime shindig. As always, her parents caved: her mother too busy with work to object too loudly and her dad too wrapped around her finger to say no. Speaking of her father, she noticed him sitting under the gazebo on the deck, mug in his hand, and watching the lot of them like a plantation overseer. She cast a quick glance around the yard and hurried up to him. "Dad," she hissed quietly. "What are you doing?"

"Enjoying the fruits of my money."

She gaped. "What?" Angel smiled pleasantly and motioned to the yard with his mug of blood. "I paid for all of this, shouldn't I get to enjoy it? You look beautiful, honey." Bridget opened her mouth and sputtered -- this was _not _her dad's usual M.O. and it was totally tilting her off-balance. "Daddy," she tried again. "I know that Mom paid for this too and she's not out here embarrassing me."

"Bee, the only person who cares that I'm out here is you. No one else has noticed me."

"That's because no one is here yet!" She huffed and scowled when the doorbell rang. Seconds later she heard a group of familiar voices from her soccer team and fisted her hands on her hips. With one last glare for her father, she stormed into the house. "MOM! Can you make Dad stay in the house?" She briefly said hello to her friends and followed her mother out to the back, where Cordelia talked Angel into joining her inside.

Angel went, but not happily. Cordy squeezed his arm soothingly. "You can watch just as easily from my bedroom window. This is a big deal for Bee, Angel." His sigh was nearly a growl. "Boys, unsupervised parties….did you see what she was wearing? You could see everything!"

"You could not. That dress has a sweater with it, so stop overreacting."

"Yeah, well, sweater or not you can see her -- her shape." Angel did not like what was happening to the kids. This growing up business was for the birds. And then Cordelia said something that sent him into a deeper funk: "Wait a couple of years and see what they wear and what _that _does to the boys. Hey, wasn't Buffy sixteen when you started dating her? Didn't that make you feel like a dirty old man?"

"Not at the time," he grumbled. "I'm going out in a bit; got a call about werewolf attacks and I'm going to try and track it down." In the meantime, however, he was going to hole up in Cordy's bedroom and keep an eye on the party. She patted his chest and kissed his cheek. "I know you just want to protect them. Go on up, I'll bring you some popcorn."

Back in the yard the party had picked up and just about everyone had arrived. Bridget was busy making sure the band was happy and playing well, that everyone was getting enough food, and that she was talking to the right people. Krista was dancing up a storm and seemed to have broken the ice and the shyness of everyone else. People were mingling and taken care of, so she grabbed a plate and joined the party. Jake Grey sidled up to her. "Hey Bridget."

"Hey."

"I didn't know you had so many twins."

She shrugged. "Lots of people have siblings." As they continued to talk, Bridget surreptitiously studied the boy who she was determined to make her ninth-grade boyfriend. It was the first tier of her political strategy for high school presidency. She wouldn't date anyone until high school because it was more important to her to attain the best grades to get into the most advanced classes, but she saw no harm in laying the groundwork. "So, um, do you want to dance or something?" He seemed surprised that she'd asked but agreed. Bridget smiled -- her plan was in motion. "Cool."

As the party wore on she paid close attention to her guests. The girls from her team were hanging together and having fun so she focused on the populars. The girls were flirting, the guys were attempting to look cool, and the rest of her siblings' friends were just hanging out. All in all it seemed like a great party until two things happened: one, her sisters seemed to be making a bigger impression than her -- Libby was garnering a lot of attention by playing football with Caleb and a few other kids and apparently kicking ass. Nobody knew that she had years of defensive training under her belt courtesy of Marek, so the boys seemed extra impressed, including Jake and his friends. Ivy was flirting with the band and they didn't seem to mind. _Figures she'd go after the older boys_, Bridget thought with a sneer. The older, cooler boys from her future high school.

The second thing was the most unexpected: Alice Ferreira, the most popular girl in Bridget's year, showed up with a couple of her lackeys in tow. Bridget was stunned and thoroughly unprepared to deal with her future rival's appearance. Krista hurried over to share in Bridget's dismay. "I can't believe she showed up! I didn't think we'd have a crash-worthy party 'til at least high school."

"Well, that's true," Bridget agreed, seeing the positive in that the most popular girl in school was crashing _her _party. "But what am I gonna do?"

"Talk to her like you don't care if she's here or not."

"I'd rather she wasn't." Steeling herself, Bridget grabbed a few empty plates and walked up to the house, passing Alice on the way. She nearly passed the girls before stopping. "Oh, hey, what are you guys doing here?" Alice flipped her glossy black hair and smiled tightly. "I heard you got Chad Doherty's band to play; thought I'd come check it out." I, not we, as if her girlfriends were faceless assistants or something. Bridget smiled brightly at all three, noting that Jenna Dawson had caught the slip if the scowl on her face was any indication. "Help yourselves to cake and stuff." She left them before they could reply and hurried into the kitchen where her mom was going over some work papers at the table. Cordelia looked up and smiled. "How's it going out there, hon?"

"The most popular girl in school just showed up." Cordelia's brows winged up appreciatively. "Uninvited?" Bridget nodded.

"That is an excellent sign. You're throwing the best party of the year and she had to crash. Way to go!"

"You know, it occurs to me that most mothers wouldn't give advice quite like yours."

"I'm not most mothers, duh. Now get back out there and show those kids who's who and who's _not_."

"Thanks Mom." Bridget hugged her mother tightly, and Cordelia reached up to adjust her sweater. "You're welcome….just don't mention this to your dad, okay? He'd rather you win a Nobel Prize than Prom Queen."

"That's okay, 'cuz I'll win both."

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The following Monday at school everyone was abuzz with talk of Bridget's party. She and Krista enjoyed basking in the glow of being popular with everyone for the moment, and was sure this had cemented her status for ninth grade. Then she overheard something that made her forget about high school and worry about her very life. She was in a bathroom stall when Alice Ferreira and her friends came in for a gossip session.

"I went in to use the bathroom and poked around a bit on my way out, you know?" Alice said and Bridget was certain she was leaning into the mirror to touch up her lip gloss. "In the front closet there's this huge chest full of _weapons_. Like swords and stuff, and they looked _used_." Bridget heard the girls gasp and could practically see Alice sharpening her claws. She mentally cursed her family for keeping those things lying around, but having the weapons chest with the coats just made sense to her parents. Alice continued, "I mean, her parents could be serial killers or something and we wouldn't even know." One girl (it sounded like Jenna Dawson) defended her, sort of. "Do you seriously believe that? Anyway, serial killers or not, it was a wicked party."

"Yeah, well, I swear I saw her dad coming in the house all covered in weird scratches and blood."

The bell rang before anyone could say more and Bridget waited until she heard them leave before exiting the stall. She washed her hands and glared into the very mirror Alice Ferreira had primped into. If that girl said one word about the things she'd seen, Bridget didn't know what her classmates, let alone parents, would say. One thing was for sure: she was going to have to ruin Alice's credibility before the girl breathed a word. She also had to make herself seem as normal as possible to protect her family's secret. Ever since Noah had shown her the files he and Libby had taken from their Dad's house, Bridget knew there was a lot more at stake now.

That day after school she went to the Hyperion instead of home and got to it with the attitude that it was just like ripping off a band aid. She gathered Cordelia, Angel and Wesley in her mom's office and told them the only thing she'd been able to think of:

"I want to go live with Dad and Aunt Fred."

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The air in the house was thick with tension. Her dad had been in a foul mood since he'd come in from work and Libby soon learned that Bee had decided to go live with Wesley. Her mother was sad, though she hid it well, but claimed to understand why Bridget wanted to leave. Libby thought it was a crock and Bridget wasn't talking to defend her decision. There'd been a big fight between Bee and Ivy and everyone had retreated to their corners after dinner. Libby decided that it was the perfect time to do what she'd been hoping to do for months: go out patrolling. The trickiest part would be sneaking out of the house as she faced a three story drop if she climbed out her window.

She left a note in case someone actually came in looking for her, double checked her pockets for the stakes she'd hidden in her jacket, and quietly opened her door. Noah's was closed and she figured he was either playing with that camera he'd bought with his birthday money or poring over those stupid files again. She was beginning to wish they'd never found the stupid things -- her brother was becoming obsessed to the point of actually breaking his promise and visiting their biological father. Noah had never broken a promise to her in his life and Libby sneered at the thought of Wilson Christopher making her ridiculously scrupulous brother do something so out of character.

_One thing at a time, _she silently told herself. She'd learned from Marek that letting your mind get caught up in too many different problems could mean the difference between winning and dying. She hurried soundlessly down the stairs and peered into any visible rooms. She heard noise in the kitchen and thanked god that the front door was at the bottom of the stairs. With one last look up the stairs, Libby pushed her sister and brother from her mind and slipped out into the night.

LA was a hotspot for demon activity and she wondered where to begin first. The clubs would probably be teeming with hungry vampires but it was far too early for the clubs to be crowded. Later on she'd find a place and hang around outside, but in the meantime she wandered, doing her best to melt into the shadows like her father did. Downtown LA was a lot different when walking the streets alone compared to seeing it from the inside of a car and Libby decided she liked the energy. She kept her eyes peeled for anything unusual and when she was looking for it, she could see traces of demon life on every corner. A hooker hiding horns with poufy bangs; scaly skin peeping out under shirt cuffs, all sorts of things that would never be seen under normal circumstances. Demons everywhere but not a single one doing anything wrong. Libby sighed -- it was just her luck that nobody was being attacked by a single lousy vampire. Her thought was cut short when she turned the corner into a darker, seedier neighbourhood and she heard a shriek. Gleeful and determined, Libby ran towards the sound while trying to maintain some cover in the shadows.

A man was pressed up against a brick wall by an iron grip tipped with pink nail polish. He was struggling wildly but froze when the vampire shifted into her game face. She didn't waste time in darting in for his jugular and Libby didn't was time in pulling out a stake. She rushed forward and with all the force she could muster, drove the wood into the vamp's back. The vampire crumbled to dust and the man crumbled to the ground out of shock or loss of blood, or both. Libby stared down at the pile of dust, not quite believing that her first kill had happened so easily. "Well, that sucks," she muttered and grimaced at the pun.

"So do I," said a snarling voice from behind her. She whirled and came face-to-face with another vamp; a male one this time, and he looked pissed. Instantly her heart was pounding with excitement and a touch of fear, but most of all, adrenaline. She automatically dropped into her fighting stance. The vamp rushed her angrily and she jumped aside and aimed a well-placed kick, catching his knees. Unfortunately he only stumbled and came back at her hard. The fight was more difficult than she'd thought -- he was really, really strong and did not fight by the rules and etiquette Marek had taught her. When she saw that she was beginning to weaken much faster than her opponent, Libby knew she had to pull it together and use her brain.

_Step back_, Marek's voice sounded in her head. _Find his weaknesses and use them. _

She only had split seconds to do so, but she could tell that he was getting frustrated that she wasn't going to be an easy meal, and his frustration was making him sloppy. She didn't have the swords she'd been training with for so long and that was her handicap. She needed to think fast -- the plan she came up with was risky but she was running out of options. Libby took a deep breath and ran directly at the vampire. She got as close as she could and jumped, startling him to the point that instinct kicked in and he caught her. Her stake was out and in his chest before he realized it, and he was genuinely surprised when he crumbled to dust. She landed on her feet, shaky as her legs were, and grinned. Not only had she survived the fight but she'd won. She, a thirteen-year-old human girl, had killed two vampires on her own.

The guy on the ground groaned, reminding Libby of his presence. She hurried over and pulled out her cell phone to call an ambulance, remembering at the very last second that her parents monitored their phone bills. "Hey," she said, nudging the guy. "Have you got a phone?" He didn't open his eyes to acknowledge her so she rummaged through his pockets, finding the small phone on the third try. She dialed, hastily ordered help and put his phone back in his pocket before quickly taking off. She couldn't wait to tell Noah and April…._ow_. Libby stopped suddenly as her injuries caught up with her. She may have been well-trained, but she'd just fought a vampire -- one who had ten times a normal man's strength. She suddenly felt like her body was a giant bruise and for the first time worried that her injuries might give her away to her family. _Don't freak, _she told herself. _If they ask, I'll say I amped up my training._ And the only person who could blow her cover on that was Marek, so the only solution was to actually ask to be trained a little harder and rougher. If she hoped to survive fighting vampires and others of the like, she was going to have to know how to fight dirty.

On the bus ride back home, a nice-looking apartment building caught her eye and triggered the strongest sense of déjà vu. It wasn't until five blocks later that she realized the place was her mom's old apartment, the one with Phantom Dennis. She wondered what had happened with Dennis all the way home, and about Noah's trip to see Wilson and Bridget's decision to move in with Wes and Fred. But it was the night's events and injuries that sat heaviest on her mind as she approached the house. The Plymouth was gone, as she knew her dad was out fighting the good fight, and the house was dark. Then movement on the other side of the lawn caught her eye and she readied herself for another fight.

"Ivy?" She whispered when her sister became visible in the light cast off from the porch. Ivy looked much more surprised to see Libby than vice versa, and they faced off across the front path. "What are you doing?" Ivy demanded, to which Libby raised a brow and crossed her arms. "I could ask you the same thing." They gave each other long hard looks before reaching the same compromise. "I didn't see you," Ivy said and Libby nodded once. "I didn't see you either." They crept into the house together and climbed the stairs silently. Libby had no illusions about Ivy's reasons for sneaking out -- she could've been with a boy, at a party, or doing anything that would quench her thirst for adventure (or most likely, all three) but it was Ivy's life and Libby wasn't the type to throw stones. She didn't know what Ivy thought of meeting her on the front porch and she only cared so far as to hope Ivy wouldn't mention it to anyone.

"Lib," Ivy whispered, her hand hovering over her doorknob. Libby hesitated at the foot of her stairs. "Are you okay?" Ivy asked. "I'm fine," she replied with a tiny smile. In truth she was fantastic. Sore as hell, but fantastic.


	23. ch 23

A/N: Okay, a few things: I apologize if this and upcoming chapter seem slightly different in tone/style than the previous ones, but I started this story back in 2003, so it's hard to stay in the same frame of mind over that amount of time. I know this chapter is obscenely long and I'm hoping it will be the last of its kind -- I'm going to attempt to get the point of the story across without as much unnecessary detail. Plus, I've sort of written myself into a crowded corner with all the characters featured in this story. Last, I still love getting reviews and I'm thankful to those of you who've stuck with me all this time. I'm planning not one but TWO sequels, so I'm trying extra hard to finally get this mammoth finished (and if some things seem random, they will have meaning for the future stories).

* * *

Marek met Cordelia for lunch with a lot on his mind, namely his two favourite Chase women. He kissed his fiancée in greeting and signalled the waitress for a glass of water. "How are you?" He asked immediately. "I feel like I've hardly seen you since I got back." (He'd recently gone to Boston on a job that was really a favour for an old friend). Marek wasn't pleased to see Cordelia's lovely mouth droop into a frown. "As well as can be expected," she sighed. "This Bridget situation has been a nightmare -- Angel's been in heavy brood-mode for a solid week-" She paused to order and started in on the white wine the waitress had brought. "I think I understand why she wants to move in with Wes and Fred….she's so ambitious and fits right in with them." Cordelia sighed again. "It hurt, you know? I didn't expect it to, but when she said those words it was like a knife to my heart." She laughed lightly. "Go figure." Marek squeezed her hand, not quite understanding but supporting wholeheartedly. "And Noah's been acting odd lately. Distant, especially since his birthday." 

Mention of Noah reminded Marek of the other Chase woman on his mind: Libby. "I don't want to burst your bubble, but not all teenage boys stay as close to their mothers as when they were younger." Before she could comment, he moved on. "Libby, however…." Cordy's eyes narrowed suspiciously, though he didn't miss the hint of worry. "What's she done?"

"Well, for starters, she skipped three days of training in a row-" That alone was worrisome. Libby was far too driven and serious about her training to just skip a few days without warning. "When she came back she wasn't at one hundred percent, and she said she wasn't sick." Cordy was looking at him like he was nuts. "Uh, maybe she just wanted to take a break. Maybe she just had really bad cramps or something." Marek cleared his throat, mildly embarrassed at discussing a topic so personal to Libby. "Ah, well, I don't know about that, but now she's got me pushing her harder than ever. Said she wants to focus more on improvisation than decorum." Cordelia was skeptical. "She said _that_?" Marek leaned back to allow the waitress to put their plates down. "Thank you. Yeah, she said that exactly. She's more articulate than you'd think."

"I'm well aware of how articulate she is," Cordelia snapped. "I meant that that doesn't seem like something Libby would think about. Sounds like she was asking to learn how to _fight_-fight, not just….train-fight."

"Exactly, and I'm wondering why. She's more than capable of defending herself already. Much more than the other kids, obviously. More than some of the guys who work with us."

"Oh. So, what, you think she's _actually_ training for something?" Cordelia paused for a moment to let it sink in and her eyes narrowed as a thought occurred to her. "Just like a Slayer. No way will I have my daughter turn into some….some cry-Buffy vampire slayer! We need to nip this in the bud."

"I think we need to talk to her first, see what's going on in her head before we jump to conclusions. Besides, what did you expect would happen? I don't think her intention with all this training was just to get in shape."

"I seem to have to do a lot of talking lately," she fumed. "Talk to Bridget, talk to Ivy, now talk to Libby. Humph. Why can't girls be as easy as boys?"

"My mother might disagree with you on that, but you had to expect this from teenaged girls. They're terrifying." Cordelia rolled her eyes. "_I_ wasn't…. well, maybe I was, but in a totally different way. The good way. I don't remember my mother ever having to talk to me." Marek considered for a second on how to phrase his reply without offending. "Have you considered that she just _didn't_ talk to you?"

"Well, fine. No, I didn't, but that is so typical of her. Anyway, I turned out fine. Great, even! She had nothing to do with it."

"Maybe not, but I know you don't want to become your mother and I sure as hell believe you don't want the kids to have the same adolescence that you had."

"Hey, I had a pretty good adolescence, vampires and whiny blondes aside." She didn't want to consider the idea that she'd had just the opposite in her formative years. Even at her current age Cordelia didn't want to entertain the ideas of being an afterthought to her parents and no more than status symbol to her so-called friends. With a slight shake of her head, Cordy reminded herself that what's done is done and dug into her salad. "So tell me about Boston." She listened with half an ear and switched topics to the Hyperion, which was halfway through renovations, and to the upcoming wedding, but her mind was preoccupied with her daughters and the uncomfortable conversations she was going to have to have with them.

* * *

Wesley loaded yet another box into the back of Gunn's truck with a little grunt at the weight of it. The sky was heavy with clouds that threatened rain at any moment and he wanted to get Bridget moved in before the storm. Gunn heaved in another box and grumbled about one girl having so much stuff. "April's probably got just as much," he reminded his old friend. "And just wait until Lana gets older." 

"Are you kidding?" Gunn replied, incredulous. "You can barely move in her room already from the toys." Wesley grinned at the idea that Gunn had bought his daughter most of those toys. As there was a bit of a lull in the assembly line bringing boxes from Bridget's room down to the driveway, Wesley and Gunn leaned against the truck and relaxed. "So what do you think of all this?" Gunn asked after a moment of silence.

"I'm still surprised," he said truthfully. "It was all so sudden that I wonder if there's not another reason."

"Worried about suddenly having a teenager twenty-four seven?"

He'd never considered it like that. "Should I be? Actually, I'm quite looking forward to sharing my knowledge with someone who will appreciate it. Fred too, possibly more so than me." Their conversation was cut short by the appearance of Caleb and Bridget carrying what they claimed were the last two boxes. Cordelia joined them a moment later and Noah walked up the drive soon after with a camera slung over his shoulder, which surprised Wesley. "When did Noah get a camera?" He asked Cordelia as they tied down the larger items with bungee cords. "Just recently," she said with a scowl. "He bought it with his birthday money." Gunn whistled. "How much birthday money do these kids get? That looked like it was pretty high-end." Cordy's scowl deepened. "He bought it at a pawn shop. I was so mad when I found that out -- a _pawn shop_. Believe me, he'll never set foot in one again after the talk we had." Bridget, who was walking by at the moment, threw her two cents in. "His ears were nearly bleeding at the end of that 'talk'."

"Why don't you go around the house to see if you missed anything," Cordelia suggested in a tone that was much more forceful than suggestive and turned back to the conversation once Bee had disappeared into the house. "The pawn shop thing is bad enough, but it's the fact that he bought a camera that really bothers me."

"I had no idea he was interested in photography," Wesley agreed.

"Me either, but don't you remember what--" Her voice dropped. "_Wilson _does for a living?" Wesley and Gunn shared a look of understanding. "Oh."

"Yeah, I'm not happy about it. But he's interested in something that's not part of the top four so I'm being supportive."

"Top four?" Gunn looked almost amused. Cordy nodded. "Sex, drugs, crime, and demons."

"He's a guy," Gunn reminded her. "He's interested in sex, believe me."

"Shut up, he's only thirteen. He's still a boy."

Gunn looked ready to argue but Wes dissuaded him with a shake of his head. He was probably right (Wesley remembered his interest in sex began when he was around Noah's age) but it was best not to poke the bear when she was already in a mood about her kids. The conversation was dropped and Bridget came back outside empty handed and ready to go to her new home.

* * *

Gunn was right: Noah was interested in sex, or at least a certain person of the opposite kind. That certain person had pretty blonde hair and a soft voice and a heart of gold. That certain person also happened to be one of his oldest friends, Mia Dalton. He wasn't quite sure when it happened, going from simply liking her to really _liking _her, but he figured it was around his birthday party. He'd been playing around with the camera Wilson had given him and had taken a couple of pictures of her because she just looked so pretty, then _boom_ -- that night he'd had a very non-friendly dream and had been too mortified to look her in the eye since. Through the camera lens was a different story, however, and while he worried about turning slightly stalkerish, Noah was surprised to find he had a knack for taking pictures. Especially pictures of the pretty girl he liked. 

_Guess my eyes weren't the only thing I inherited,_ he thought at the same time Bridget was climbing into Cordelia's car to go to their Dad's. He heard the engines roar to life and peered out his bedroom window. Noah watched his sister leave with a pang of regret. It seemed that with Bee leaving, the six of them weren't as much of a unit anymore and Noah doubted their relationship would ever really be the same. It was like that for everyone, he mused as he hooked up the camera to his computer. Everyone had different interests and he couldn't remember the last time he'd goofed around with his brothers. The worst was the secret he was keeping from Libby was driving a wedge between them, he just knew it. He'd told her the same as everyone else that he'd bought the camera, not that Wilson had given it to him. He knew she suspected his story was false and he was afraid that his dishonesty was driving her to keep secrets too. He'd had to interrogate her for ages to get her to admit she'd gone out patrolling on her own, which he could have killed her for, and he sensed a vibe between Libby and Ivy that hadn't been there before.

_Tell Libby the truth then_, his little voice urged him, not for the first time. After all, it wasn't like she'd stop speaking to him or anything -- she'd eventually understood why he'd wanted to go see Wilson, which was a much bigger issue. Mind made up, he would tell her about it as soon as he saw her. In a much better mood, Noah focused on the photos that had finished downloading to his computer. He didn't know what he was going to do with them all but once he'd figured out the bells and whistles of the camera he'd almost been unable to resist snapping pictures of every other thing he saw. Just as he was contemplating a shot of Mia there was a knock on his door and Angel poked his head in the room.

"Dad? What are you doing home?"

"Came to get you guys for training….is that Mia?" Noah whirled around to see the picture up on his computer screen. Valiantly fighting the blush crawling up his neck, Noah nodded. "Yeah." Angel came into the room for a closer look. "That's really good."

"You think?" His Dad was an artist and could really appreciate the aesthetic quality of a photo. "Want to see some others I took?" He flipped through the images and tried to see them the way Angel did. When he'd finished, Noah waited expectantly for the verdict. "I'm no photographer," Angel said thoughtfully. "But they look great to me." He paused. "What made you buy a camera?"

"Uh….I don't really know. I just saw it and figured it'd be something fun to do." It was a thin story at best but his Dad didn't have reason to doubt him (he hoped). "Why?"

"Your biological father was a photographer," Angel replied. Noah's mouth dropped open at the shock of Angel actually opening up about Wilson Christopher. "So this is kind of weirding your mother out."

"Not you?" Noah managed. Angel shrugged. "Everything about you guys is weirding me out right now, but I know you're not going to suddenly turn into _him_."

Noah scoffed. "I will never turn out like that loser."

"What?"

_Crap. _"I just mean that, uh, I'd never be like someone who leaves a girl pregnant and alone." Angel regarded him almost suspiciously and Noah fought to keep his expression neutral. "Your Mom was never alone," he said after a minute and stood. "The others are probably ready to go." Noah sighed heavily. "Do I have to go? I really don't want to be the punching bag again." Angel laughed. "Yes you have to go, but today we'll make Darren the punching bag."

"And risk his delicate piano fingers?"

"Beethoven was deaf and he could play; I'm sure Darren will be just fine with a broken finger or two."

* * *

After literal years of waiting, Cordelia and Marek's wedding was finally only a week away. It was to be a much smaller affair than the 500-person event Cordy had once dreamed of, this one barely 100 guests. Still, she was holding it at the Ritz-Carlton and wearing an outrageously expensive designer gown. There were to be no bridesmaids or groomsmen and Darren was going to play the piano as she walked down the aisle. No one would be giving her away (how antiquated would that have been?). Even their mothers had been introduced, and while Cordelia was still having trouble with the fact that Constance had apparently known about demons for years ("Of course I know -- you think _science _keeps me looking young?") the whole meeting had gone relatively smoothly. So with only a week left there were just a few minor details to handle and out of town guests began arriving, including Xander Harris. He showed up at her office with a bouquet of flowers and a grin. "Happy wedding!" 

"Xander!" She exclaimed, delighted, and jumped up to accept the flowers. "I didn't think you could come." He shrugged. "Change of plans. Plus, I have ulterior motives."

"What?"

Xander glanced over his shoulder to the doorway. "Is the rest of the gang here? It's business stuff." Cordelia nodded and paged the office receptionist to gather everyone in the conference room. Xander chuckled. "I can't believe you guys have a _conference_ room." Cordy shrugged. "Business is booming so we went for the fancy office when we relocated." Xander nodded in understanding and switched topics. "So do I get to meet the fiancée today?"

"Yup. You can meet his whole family today if you come for dinner tonight."

"Is your mother going to be there?"

Cordelia grimaced slightly but nodded. Xander grinned. "Ooh…fireworks -- I'm there. Fan-_cy_," he exclaimed when they reached the meeting room. Gunn was already in one of the chairs talking on his cell phone and waved as they settled into the chairs. "So, how's everyone on your end?" She asked while they waited for the others to arrive.

"Fine. Really busy at the moment -- which is what I want to talk to you all about -- but they're good. Dawnie's pregnant, which is totally weird. She'll be the first one yet she's the youngest." He shook his head at the idea that little Dawn was going to have a baby and pushed the thought aside. "Giles bought himself a motorcycle -- I know," he said when Cordy snorted. "And Will and Buffy are keeping us all alive, I guess. Oh, good," he said as Angel, Wesley, and Marek filed in together. "Hey guys." They were all notably surprised to see Xander sitting in the conference room, but introductions were made, small talk dealt with, and Xander quickly got down to business.

"So we're doing something I'd never even thought of before," he began, tipping his chair back a little. "We're incorporating. There are so many Slayers and individual cells around the world that are in the same business as us that we decided to sort of join forces. Kind of like Justice League, except with vampires." Wesley jumped in with perhaps the most valid question. "Is this government sanctioned?" Xander snorted. "After the Initiative disaster? Not a chance, but we're setting up a Board to run this thing from some of the largest groups and covens."

"Who's funding this?" Marek fired off.

"Everybody's chipping in," Xander shrugged. "We're not the CIA or anything. Really it's a means to get everyone who's fighting the best and most accurate information." Wesley looked thoughtful. "Similar to the database you've got up now?"

"Actually, we're using the W.C.D. as the primary information source; giving access to anyone who needs it, really. There'll be a screening process to join us, and anyone who gets in gets access."

"Sounds risky," Angel muttered. "You get one mole in and everything's blown."

"Believe me, the screening process isn't just a background check," Xander assured. "Willow's developed some sort of magical test that any interested parties have to pass, and there's no way of fooling it." Angel frowned. "There's always a way, but I suppose you guys won't make it easy. So are you telling us this as a heads up, or asking if we want to join?"

"Both." He smiled easily. "But no pressure. We just think that you're one of the more organized groups and would kind of get the ones that aren't to get a bit more serious."

"When did this stuff get so corporate?" Gunn wondered, and everyone grinned. "I guess we're just playing catch-up," he continued. "Evil's been incorporated for how long?"

"Wolfram and Hart's been around a very long time," Wes supplied, and the mood turned a little less chipper. "It's a good idea, focusing all resources to the same goal."

"Speaking of them, we were hoping you could help us out. We need to add them to the database, and no one knows more about them than you guys." Wesley nodded. "Of course. We'll obviously have to take some time and discuss this proposition."

"Sure, and even if you don't join, you guys'll still be given access to the ICASE database."

"ICASE?" Cordelia asked. Xander nodded and fished a card out of his wallet. "International Coalition Against Supernatural Evil. You can thank Willow and Giles for that mouthful. So, now that we're done with business, what time should I come for dinner?"

* * *

Cordelia hadn't quite realized how much food was required to feed everyone she'd invited for dinner, and subsequently had had to go back to the store midway through the preparation (which Angel had generously offered to handle), but was nonetheless pleased with her impromptu dinner party. Xander was entertaining his end of the table with stories from Sunnydale and Constance and Julia Marek were chatting politely. Marek's sister Val had cornered Lorne and Fred, and all the kids were entertaining each other at their own table. The only one missing was Marek, which was due to the fact that he was picking up his best friend since childhood from the airport. When they lingered over dessert, a few of the kids migrated from their table. "Wait," Noah said halfway through one of Xander's stories. "You and Mom used to go out?" 

"Don't ask me how it happened, but it was a huge coup -- a loser like me landing the most popular girl in school? I was in disbelief for most of our relationship."

"You weren't the only one," Cordelia supplied good-naturedly. "My friends thought I was possessed and totally ostracized me." She noted the looks on her kids' faces and wondered if they were going to subconsciously absorb this story as a lesson or something. "But they were as shallow as you could get and I realized that what they thought didn't matter."

"And Harmony ended up dating Spike, so we obviously know her judgement's skewed," Xander added sagely. Libby leaned against Wesley's chair. "Who's Spike?"

"A vampire who got in the way a lot."

Libby seemed mildly puzzled. "But you didn't kill him?" Xander shook his head and took a drink from his glass. "He was an annoyance but he helped out. Died saving the world, actually. I'm surprised you don't know." Libby exchanged a look with Noah and Caleb, who was also hanging around. Cordelia jumped in quickly. "We don't really talk much about Sunnydale." Now it was Xander's turn to look puzzled. "Spike goes back a lot farther than Sunnydale -- he's practically Angel's, what, kid? Brother? Annoying cousin?" The noise all but died around the table. Only Constance and the Mareks kept talking. Xander winced slightly. "Did I just spill the family secret or something?"

After a pregnant pause and furtive looks, Angel shrugged. "We just don't talk about my past much." Xander's brow inched up in surprise. "Huh. You'd think with a life as long as yours some stories would kinda pop up over dinner."

"You'd think," Libby and Noah muttered simultaneously, then grinned momentarily at the jinx. "They don't think we can handle hearing about life before us," Caleb offered, with the tiniest impatient glare for his parents. "Which doesn't make sense seeing what they do for a living, but whatever." Cordelia sighed. "Now's really not the time for this conversation, Caleb."

Caleb rolled his eyes. "It's never really the time. We're going to find out eventually, so you may as well tell us." And with that he turned and stalked out of the room. There was momentary silence, then Xander commented on what an impressive exit it was. Thankfully they were saved from any more awkward conversation when the front door opened and Marek's voice greeted them. "We're back!" Seconds later he appeared in the kitchen followed by a demon of indeterminate race. "Everyone, this is Jay. Jay, everyone." He went around the room pointing out who was who for Jay's benefit. Jay grinned, revealing a set of small, pointed teeth. "I was beginning to thing you all were just figments of Johnny's imagination. Hey Mama," he said and leaned over Julia Marek's mother to plant a kiss on her cheek. "Pull up a chair," Lorne said genially, shifting aside to make room.

"What's Jay short for?" Libby asked. He grinned again. "An impossible name no human could hope to pronounce. So you're Marek's little prodigy?" Libby shrugged, but smiled in a pleased sort of way. As Marek dropped a plate of food in front of his friend and then tucked into his own meal, Wesley leaned back in his chair. "What do you do for a living?" The briefest of glances passed between Jay and Marek before Jay answered nonchalantly: "I'm sort of a middleman for independent contractors." Wesley looked ready to grill him more, but Xander piped up, an odd look on his face. "Where are you based?"

"New Yawk," Jay replied with a quick grin and greatly exaggerated New York accent. "No place quite like it. So Johnny said one of you guys owns a karaoke bar?" Lorne, looking highly pleased, nodded. "That's me. Caritas."

"We should all go sometime this week," Jay suggested pleasantly. "I do a mean Sinatra impression." As everyone agreed and conversation became lighter and louder, no one noticed the troubled looks on both Marek's and Xander's faces.

* * *

Lorne's place was as popular as it had ever been, so it was already crowded before the entire Fang Gang-plus-guests flooded in. The youngest kids, Chris and Lana, were home with babysitters, but the rest had been allowed to come along. They were issued a few sideways glances from the other patrons but were otherwise accepted. Lorne clapped his hands brusquely and addressed the bartender. "Juan, these folks drink free -- only once. After that, start a tab." He shrugged towards his friends. "I'd go bankrupt if I gave you lot freebies all night. So, who's first? Angelcakes? Gonna treat us to some Manilow tonight?" 

If Angel could have blushed, he would have. As it was he shook his head and muttered something unintelligible. Lorne pursed his lips, then shrugged. "Spoilsport. Okay, why don't you kids do a group performance?" The seven of them (April included) eventually agreed and marched up to the stage to serenade the bar with a rendition of _Monster Mash_, for which they received an enthusiastic ovation. The mood was light and fun and glossed over by a nice little beer buzz, so Xander was quite surprised to hear a short, heated discussion just outside the bathroom between two familiar voices. He stopped just short of revealing himself and guiltlessly eavesdropped on the conversation between Marek and his friend Jay.

From the moment he'd met Jay, there had been an unpleasant niggling of familiarity at the back of Xander's mind. The way he evasively claimed to be a 'middleman', topped with his address and physical looks had had Xander making a discreet call to Willow back home. She'd agreed to look into in and he expected to hear from her by the next day. The conversation he was hearing wasn't putting either guy in a very positive light.

"Jay, you have to keep your mouth shut about me and work," Marek said lowly. "Cordelia doesn't know."

"Still? Shouldn't you tell her?"

"She wouldn't understand."

There was a pause in which Xander imagined Jay was shrugging. "Whatever you want, man. Speaking of work, I've got a contract with your name on it. The Swiss government needs a loudmouth independent taken care of."

"The _Swiss_?"

Jay snorted; Xander's eyes narrowed. "Go figure. That's how they stay neutral -- they silence anyone who talks too loudly about a change in policy."

"When?" Marek asked after a moment in a resigned sort of voice.

"ASAP."

"Jay," Marek stated incredulously. "You do remember why you're here, right? I'm getting married in three days. I can't skip out on my honeymoon to take care of someone the Swiss want dead. Find someone else."

"Alright, alright." They trailed off as very heavy footsteps joined them. Xander jumped away just in time as the door swung open, and he squeezed by a demon seven feet tall that resembled a buffalo standing upright. Marek and Jay had abandoned the small hallway and Xander saw that they'd migrated back to the table. He hung back a second to watch Marek with Cordelia, who looked genuinely happy. Thing was, did he tell her what he'd overheard? _Not until I hear from Willow,_ he decided resolutely. He knew from too much experience never to form an opinion strictly from an incident like overhearing a conversation. No, he'd wait until there was something more concrete to go on. But when Willow called him the next morning with more information on this Jay character than he'd expected, Xander knew his first impression had been correct: Jay wasn't a good guy, and it seemed like Marek wasn't everything he seemed either.

"He _is _an independent contractor," Willow said over the phone. "He contracts out mercenaries, thieves, thugs-for-hire; whatever the interested party needs. His guys are mostly demon, so if this guy Cordelia's marrying works with him, he's likely leaning towards the bad side of the line."

"So do you think I should tell her?"

"Yes," She replied immediately and firmly. "Wouldn't you want to know?" Xander sighed. "Yeah, in the long run I'd want to know. Thanks Will."

Cordelia was bent low over her wedding dress inspecting what may have been a poorly sewn seam when there was a hesitant knock on the frame of the door. She glanced up and smiled at Xander until she got a good look at his face. "What's wrong?" She demanded. "You look like someone just ate your puppy." He attempted a smile but didn't quite manage it, then sighed and stuck his hands in his pockets. "I get the feeling you'll hate me in about ten minutes, but I'll risk it because I care about you." Seriously not liking the direction this was going, Cordelia set the dress aside and got to her feet. "Xander, what is it?"

"Okay," he said on another sigh. "Last night I overheard something that I think you should know about." He proceeded to fill her in on everything he'd learned in the last few hours and when he'd finished held his breath and waited for the explosion. He was more worried than surprised when she said nothing at all, instead pressing her lips tightly together and balling her fingers into fists. "Ah, am I way off base here? Did I just make an ass of myself?"

"No," she said quietly, furiously. "No. I never told you how I met Marek. He was hired by some sleazeball demon to kidnap my kids." And with that she stormed out of the room. Seconds later he heard the front door slam shut and her car peel out of the driveway.

It only took the short drive from the house to the office for Cordelia's anger to go from cold to hot and bubbling and she ignored everyone as she marched into the office building they'd moved into after the Hyperion had begun being renovated to be reopened as a hotel. She was out for blood now, and she didn't realize it until later, but it was something that had been brewing for thirteen years: ever since that day he'd made an attempt to snatch her kids and she hadn't been there to protect them. No, while she'd wussed out for two days and holed up in a semi-sleazy motel to think about her priorities, the man she was about to marry had tried to _steal her children. _And for what, a pay check? Well she was damned well going to find out now.

She burst into his office so forcefully that the door slammed against the wall. He was on the phone and nearly toppled over in his chair before hastily ending the call. "Cordy? What's-"

"Don't you _dare_!" She thundered. "What the hell were you thinking?! You're still doing what you did back then? When you tried to kidnap _my _kids! You're still hiring yourself out like some whore with a sword?! _That's _what you do on all those 'business trips'?" Had she been more level-headed, she might have seen the sharp flash of panicked surprised in his eyes -- the only indication he gave of his feelings -- before he mentally blocked everything but his ability to reason. He got to his feet and edged around her to carefully close the door to prevent any noses sticking in. "Cordy, we can't have any kind of discussion until you cool down a bit." That was obviously the wrong thing to say, and it said volumes about his inner turmoil that she not only landed a punch but had him staggering back a few steps.

"Where is this all coming from!?" He demanded, swiping at the blood on his lip where she'd split it.

"Someone overheard you talking last night with Jay, and I just came into some information about just _who_ he is. I won't say who told me!" She threw in stubbornly. "They don't deserve to be dragged into this."

"A little late," he muttered somewhat bitterly. "So you just take their word about what they heard last night in a loud bar? From someone who'd probably had a few to drink?" Her temper had simmered some, and her voice took on an icy tone. "Yeah, I do. Why shouldn't I? Don't you remember how we met?"

"Cordelia, that was over ten years ago!" He defended. "And I've never, _ever _done that sort of thing since. I realized then that it was a mistake. I love the kids."

"If you loved them you would have stopped doing everything. If you loved me-"

"I _do _love you, Cordy!"

"If you loved me," she continued as if he hadn't spoken. "You would have at the very least told me."

"How could I?" He demanded impulsively. If his emotions hadn't been running so high, he would never have said what he did next. "You'd have never trusted me if I did!" She raised a brow and shook her head. "And look what trusting you got me. I won't make that mistake again. I should have listened to my gut back then."

"What are you saying?" He asked quietly.

"I'm saying that I was an idiot for letting myself love someone that I never, ever really trusted in my gut. And you know, I'm not too upset about it." She was upset about a lot of different things at that moment, but one thing was clear; why she'd put off the wedding for so many years, why it had taken her thirteen years to commit to something with Marek: she just didn't really want him the way a woman wanted a man.

"I want you out of here. Out of the business, out of the house, out of my life." Always one to have the last word, she strode out of his office and out of the building with her chin held high. She ignored his protests and demands to talk about it more and that he was so sorry.

And she didn't cry until she got to her car.


	24. ch 24

Of everyone involved, Libby took Marek's leaving the hardest. The day he moved his things out she locked herself in her room and wouldn't talk to anyone -- not that they tried very hard. They recognized her need for space; recognized her anger and hurt. In the days following she was temperamental at best, violent at worst. At lunchtime one day that week she was slouched in her seat in the cafeteria, scanning the room to avoid conversation with the others at the table. April and Noah knew why she was upset, but their other friends kept trying to cajole it out of her. She ignored them completely and when she saw a fellow classmate -- an oaf named Carl who'd had a growth spurt recently to go with his lousy attitude -- pushing around a younger kid (no doubt demanding his lunch money or something equally lame), something inside her snapped. She jumped to her feet and strode over to the duo. Noah, who'd whirled around to see what she was doing, hurried after her. "Lib, don't!" He said warningly, and again she ignored him. "Hey!" She snapped, pushing his arm away from the kid. "Leave him alone." Carl sniggered meanly. "Get lost." Libby's eyes narrowed, and Noah could see it written all over her face: she was itching for a fight.

"I _said_ leave him alone," she said again, a little more icily this time, and pushed Carl back a step or two. Carl instantly forgot about the sixth-grader and pushed her back. "Yeah? What are you going to do to stop me?"

Later, while Carl recovered in the nurse's office and Libby sat in the principal's office awaiting the arrival of her parents, Noah sat in class and figured that nobody would ever speak to Libby again, let alone make her mad. She'd taken him down in seconds, a guy with a nasty disposition who outweighed her by probably thirty pounds, with their entire school watching. The second she'd been marched out of the cafeteria by one of the teachers, the room had exploded with excited rumours and speculation. Noah frowned over his book, worried, until Mia discreetly poked him in the back. He turned his head slightly to hear her whisper "Do you think Libby's okay?"

_She's perfect, _he thought with a mental sigh. Everyone else was whispering about how Lib was crazy or things in that vein, yet Mia wondered if his sister was alright. He nodded slightly, warmed by her concern and his ever-growing crush. "She'll be okay."

Sitting in the principal's office for the first time ever, Libby was not okay at that moment. She was furious -- mad at that stupid bully Carl, mad at herself for losing control, mad at Marek for leaving, mad at her mother for making him go. So she sat across from the secretary fuming until Angel and Cordelia showed up looking worried, surprised, and annoyed. The secretary showed them into see Principal Zettel, who looked stern but not altogether unkind. "What exactly happened?" Cordelia asked, shooting Libby a look, but directing the question at the principal.

"We have several eye-witnesses who back up Libby's story that she was defending a younger student from a bully -- who, let me assure you, will be appropriately punished once he's released from the nurse." There was a ghost of a smile on Angel's mouth at that, but he quickly quashed it. "While her intentions were noble, we have a zero-tolerance stance on fighting. I'm going to have to suspend you for three days," she said, this time addressing Libby directly, who shrugged apathetically. Principal Zettel pursed her lips. "Libby, could you wait outside please? I'd like to have a word with your parents."

"I'm concerned about her," the principal said when Libby shut the door behind her. Cordelia and Angel shared a look, which Zettel didn't miss. "I took a look at Libby's file before you arrived. She's a good student who never causes trouble. She flies under the radar, for lack of a better term, so this incident today concerns me." She paused, obviously waiting for an explanation, which Cordelia hesitantly offered after a moment. "There's been a bit of an upheaval in our lives recently. I think she's just very upset right now and let her emotions get the best of her."

"Ah. Well I certainly hope that things work out, but I have to insist you speak to her about this. I can't worry every day that another student will end up in the nurse's office." As Cordelia looked offended (and Angel knew what offended Cordy was like), Angel cleared his throat. "We don't tolerate this sort of behaviour in the kids either. Don't worry about her acting up again." He paused. "Is the boy alright?" Zettel looked grim. "He'll be fine. Mostly had the wind knocked out of him, and was a bit shaken up by it all."

"Sounds like he deserved it," Cordelia snapped, not one to let insults to herself or children slide by. "Is there anything else?" She asked impatiently, pulling out her car keys. "There is." The principal's tone chilled by a degree or two, and Angel resisted the impulse to slink out of the room in embarrassment. "Your son Darren is failing math. If he doesn't achieve a fifty percent in the class, he'll be held back."

The car ride home was tense, with the bulk of it coming from the girls. Angel was tense because he was waiting for Cordelia to start in on Libby, so he decided to head her off and turned in his seat. "We need to talk about this, Lib." His daughter's eyes flickered to Cordelia and back again, but she agreed. "I'm sorry," she said lowly. "I know I screwed up. It was just so frustrating to see that nobody did anything to stop that jerk."

"I think it's more than that," he said gently. "You _never _lose control like that." In fact, she kept such a tight reign on her emotions that he often wondered if he even knew the real Libby. "You could have seriously hurt that boy."

"I could have, but I wouldn't. I at least have _that _much control." Angel didn't know whether to be impressed or worried. In either event, she obviously knew her limits. "You're trained to fight, Lib. None of the kids you know -- most of the people you know -- don't have a clue how to do the things you do. And because you can fight, you have to walk away." Cordelia chose that moment to throw in her opinion. "Exactly. I think you should walk away from it all together." There was a stunned silence from Libby for a moment before she regained her voice. "_What_?!" Angel noted the way Cordy's knuckles whitened from the iron grip she had on the wheel and wondered what she was really thinking. "You're a kid, Libby. Kids don't train to kill demons unless they're Slayers, and you are not. But still, you haven't been a kid since you were ten and Marek started training you."

"You just don't want me to have anything that's from Marek," Libby fired back angrily. "Why should I suffer because of _your _break up?" Cordelia was silent for a full minute. "You shouldn't," she said finally. "Which is why I can't tell you to give it up. But you have to know that Marek won't be around much to continue training you." Libby fell silent and remained that way until they pulled up to the house. She jumped out of the car and hurried inside, barely acknowledging Cordelia's call of "You're grounded for two weeks!" before disappearing up to her room. Cordelia sighed and pressed the button to close the garage door. "This sucks, Angel." Angel hugged her tightly. "They call it the Terrible Teens."

"Who does?" she asked somewhat shakily, her face pressed into his shirt. Angel smiled. "My parenting books. I just never expected it to start with Libby. My money was on Ivy all the way."

* * *

Libby didn't come down for dinner and while the others talked about how she'd cracked at school, Angel had the feeling that she'd just lashed out due to being upset over Marek. He decided to stay in that night and have a talk with the daughter he had the shakiest relationship with. As he climbed the stairs, he mulled over the fact that he and Libby had never been very close -- she'd put Marek in the father role and while it hurt him to think about it, it had to be hurting her more. He knocked on her door lightly. "Lib? Can I come in?" There was no reply and he figured she was giving him the silent treatment. "I'm coming in," he said, and pushed the door open. "Libby?" The room was empty; her window tightly shut. Had she gone downstairs without their realizing it? Angel took a quick turn around the house calling her name a few times, but she was plainly gone. 

"Libby's gone," he told Cordelia, who sighed. "Damn it, she's _so _grounded when she gets back!"

"She's already grounded," he reminded her humourlessly. "Obviously that doesn't mean anything to her. Where would she go?" He wondered aloud. Cordelia shrugged. "April's maybe, or to the gym at the office?" Those were definite possibilities, but two short phone calls crossed them off the list. Then he got a brainstorm and cornered Noah. "Libby's gone, do you know where she went?" Noah shook his head and met Angel's penetrating gaze. "No, she didn't tell me." Angel would have believed him if his son's heart rate didn't speed up slightly. Angel crossed his arms and gave Noah an expectant look. Noah waited a beat then sort of hung his head. "Fine, she might have gone out….patrolling." Angel blinked in surprise, then did something he never had to the kids before. He yelled. "What! Why didn't you tell me!" Startled by this, Cordelia rushed into the room. "What's going on?" Angel whirled and hurried to get his coat. "Libby went patrolling. Where?" he demanded of Noah, who shrugged guiltily. "She really didn't tell me! Downtown maybe? I could try her phone and call you if she picks up," he offered, hoping to assuage some of his guilt for both ratting Libby out and not going to his parents when he knew she was putting herself in danger.

"Do it," Angel ordered and rushed out the door. Noah turned his back on his mother's blistering glare and reached for the phone to dial his sister's number. "C'mon, Lib, answer," he muttered as the line rang and rang and eventually went to voicemail. "Call me the second you get this," he ordered into the phone. "Dad's out looking for you. I had to tell him." Noah sighed and hung up and hesitantly turned to see if Cordelia was still standing there. She was, and so were the rest of his siblings who'd come down to see what the commotion was. Cordelia fisted her hands on her hips. "How long has she been doing this?"

"A couple of months," Noah grumbled, then decided to take a stand in hopes of salvaging some of his loyalty to Libby. "I won't say anymore, though. You'll have to ask her about it." And before his mother could say anything, he hurried around her and up the stairs to his room. Noah collapsed on his bed and stared up at the sticky-stars and wondered: was Libby really that out of sorts that she'd wind up getting herself hurt? "No," he said aloud. "Let's not go there." So instead of dreaming up all the possible situations Libby could be in, he pulled out his homework. When his door opened a crack awhile later he was surprised to see Ivy come in. "What's up?" He asked curiously as she leaned against the door. She chewed on her lip and played with a long strand of hair before answering, "Do you think Libby's alright? I mean, if I knew _that _was why she was always sneaking out…"

Ivy's concern surprised him into a brief silence, then caused him to smile. Ivy was usually most concerned about Ivy, so this show of worry warmed him up a bit towards her. "Libby can take care of herself, you know that. She probably just blowing off steam… and besides, Dad'll find her if she _is _in trouble. He'll kill her when they get home, of course, but he's not going to let anything out there hurt her." Ivy nodded, and Noah could see the relief in her eyes. "You're right. It's just that what happened today was so unlike her."

"I know, but we have to remember that she's not a robot."

Ivy laughed. "The Terminator! I love it." She ended up staying for quite awhile talking about a lot of things. Noah forgot about his homework, and even about Libby for awhile, and actually talked to _this_ sister for the first time in years.

While Ivy and Noah were bonding, Libby was facing down three vampires on the bad side of downtown and realizing that maybe she'd jumped in over her head. Still, she pulled out her sword (which she'd started carrying after that first night without it) and got to work. She made fast work of one of them and the other two wised up and grabbed makeshift weapons of lengths of pipe abandoned near a dumpster. She'd gone one-on-one before with real swords, but never two-on-one in a real situation -- she and Marek hadn't got that far before…._before._ Her anger renewed along with her energy, she managed to best another one and take his head off with the shiny sword she'd liberated from the weapons stock at the office. The third vampire was by far the most skilled, and Libby was willing to wager he'd seen a lot of years in his undead lifetime. "Okay, little girl," he said, obviously frustrated. "Enough is enough. One less Slayer will do the world a lot of good."

"I'm not a Slayer," she grunted, and the conversation ceased as the fight raged on. She could feel herself weakening as he landed a few hits, and decided that she really was in over her head. But, somehow, the fates were looking out for her because just as the vamp was about to gain the upper hand, he exploded into dust to reveal Angel holding a stake. They stared wordlessly at each other for a moment before Libby said to hell with pride and sagged with relief. "Dad." Angel wordlessly grabbed her in an hug and held on for dear life. "You scared me to death!" He said furiously. Libby said nothing and squeezed her arms around him in an iron grip. He didn't let her go and before she could stop herself, Libby burst into tears. Angel let her cry it out and didn't let go until she'd trailed off into sniffles. "I'm sorry," she said, wiping her cheeks with her sleeve. "I didn't mean to do that."

"You have to cry sometimes," he said, and put an arm around her shoulders to lead her to the car. "Otherwise you end up like me." She cracked a smile. "That's not a bad thing to be. It's just not fair," she said after a moment. "Marek wasn't just in her life -- he's my best friend."

"I know. Just because he and your mom split up doesn't mean that you can't see him."

"Yeah, but she was right that he's not going to be able to do much training with me anymore."

"Well," Angel said slowly. "You always have me. I've got a lot of years on Marek, you know." Libby smiled to herself -- she knew her dad would _love _to be the one to train her. "Yeah, okay. I need to know more hand-to-hand anyway. Can't have my sword as a crutch."

"Are you kidding?" Angel exclaimed. "You're amazing! I had no idea. I saw you take that one down -- very impressive."

"The first one was an idiot, probably brand new. He didn't even get a hit in before I got him. The second was good, but that last one nearly had me." The way she said it, so nonchalantly as if it were a fact of life, made his chest constrict and reminded him of Buffy. "Why did you do this, Lib? It's not your responsibility." She looked up at him then with a look in her eye that Angel recognized uncomfortably. "Sure it is. I have the abilities to do it so I can't very well just sit back and let people die. Plus, it's kind of fun." Angel laughed a little at that and opened car door for her. "Yeah. Just do me a favour and don't go out alone again, okay?"

"And just who am I going go with?" She asked with a snort. Angel started the car and pulled out of the alley. "It'll take some convincing of your mom, but you can come out with me."

"Oh. Okay." She said it passively but Angel caught the glint in her eyes and smiled a little to himself. When they got home Cordy met them at the door with a mixture of fury and concern written all over her face, but before she could pounce Angel headed her off. "Go on upstairs, Libby. Cordy, let's talk."

* * *

Bridget waited for the bell with anticipation -- today was the career fair at the high school building and the eighth graders had been invited to attend. She'd found that since moving in with her Dad and Aunt Fred her academic side had started evolving and becoming more serious and she'd already started thinking about her future. She started packing up her bag with minutes to go in the class and was the first out the door when the bell rang. She hurried to Krista's locker to collect her friend (who was only going to get out of afternoon classes) and hurried across the campus to the high school building. "Geez, Bee, it's not like this is a first come, first serve thing," Krista said, irritated, as she struggled to keep up with Bridget's long strides. At the admonishment, Bridget slowed marginally. "Sorry, I'm just looking forward to this." 

"Yeah, you and everyone else -- oh, wait, no. You're the only one excited about a _job fair_."

"Career," Bridget corrected automatically as they reached the gym. "A job is McDonald's; the companies that show up here are really successful. Last year there were a couple Fortune 500s that came." Krista snorted and motioned to the high-schoolers filing into they gym with them. "Well look at them -- junior execs in the making just chomping at the bit to stab some backs for the perfect job. Sorry, _career_." Bridget took a second to give her best friend a sideways look. "Something wrong, Kris? You seem extra bitter today." Krista rolled her eyes. "When faced with your inevitable future of becoming one of _them_," she referred once again to the high-schoolers. "Wouldn't you be bitter?" Bridget shook her head. "Whatever. I'm going to look around."

The gym was filled with impressive-looking booths representing the best in the financial, medical, scientific, and law fields, and Bridget didn't know where to start. She flitted from booth to booth, loading her bag down with pamphlets and information. She was particularly intrigued by the booth on genetics and biology, and spent an extra five minutes talking with the representative. Just as she started walking away, a cool feminine voice called out to her from the booth next door. "Not interested in law?"

Bridget turned to look. The woman was beautiful in a cold way, dressed in a dark designer suit Bridget knew would have cost a fortune, and seemed genuinely interested in a conversation. Moving closer, Bridget scanned the booth and felt a tug of recognition at the name: Wolfram and Hart. She wasn't sure where she knew it from, but it might have been mentioned in passing by her parents. And, of course, she'd seen the building in the heart of the downtown area. The massive building that was entirely owned and used by the law firm that Bridget suddenly decided was worth a look. "I'm more interested in science," she said before picking up a pamphlet. The woman smiled in a cat-that-caught-the-canary way and said, "Wolfram and Hart is a lot more than a law firm. We have several subsidiaries that deal strictly with science -- genetics, physics, as well as newer fields that are just fascinating."

"Like what?" Bridget asked, intrigued despite herself. The woman smiled again and glanced around before lowering her voice. "You could call it supernatural science." Bridget's brows winged up in surprise then narrowed slightly. "What makes you think I believe in supernatural stuff?" The woman shrugged. "What scientist wouldn't want the opportunity to prove its existence?" Bridget said nothing but knew that her acceptance of the answer was written all over her face when the woman pulled out another pamphlet from her briefcase. "We offer excellent summer internships to high school students. They're very exclusive and competitive, but here's some information on the application process. And my card," she added, including the stark white business card with the brochure. Bridget looked them over and felt a spark of interest -- at the very least, it was worth looking into. When she saw that the woman was the president of a division within the company, Bridget slapped on her own best presidential smile and held out her hand. "My name is Bridget Chase, Ms. Morgan. I'll definitely be considering applying in a year or two." Lilah shook Bridget's hand triumphantly and couldn't help the mental high-five she gave herself when Angel's daughter walked away, internship pamphlet held tightly in her grasp.

Later that night, when Bridget was tucked away in her basement bedroom, she emptied her backpack of all the brochures she'd collected at the fair. The Wolfram and Hart one stood out and she thumbed through it again. As she did so, Lilah Morgan's card fell out and landed upside down in her lap. Picking it up, Bridget was surprised to see something written on the back in blue pen: a website address and a strange word she'd never seen before that turned out to be the password required to access the site. The webpage that Lilah Morgan had obviously wanted her to visit went into great depth about what supernatural science actually meant. Apparently Wolfram and Hart studied demon chemistries and things like science fused with magic and the scientific properties of foreign demon artefacts. The list went on, but Bridget didn't need to read any further -- she was going to apply for that internship the second she could, and she was going to get it, come hell or high water.


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: STOP RIGHT THERE! **I'm not sure how many people actually read these, but please do. So, I haven't updated this story in, oh, five years or so (sorry about that!), but here I am, back again. I haven't written much in the last few years so I'm a bit rusty, but decided that I wanted to finish this story. I have a sequel planned too, but let's not get ahead of ourselves here.  
I'm not sure if anyone'll still want to read this, but here it is. Hopefully I'll be able to update on a fairly regular basis.

* * *

As the large group sang the last bars of _Happy Birthday_, Angel was nearly certain the dog two houses down was howling - either in support or protest, he wasn't sure. They were horribly off key, true, but they only had best intentions at heart. The song ended and all six of his kids leaned over the giant cake to blow out the sixteen candles dotting its surface. Flashbulbs briefly lit the room to capture the rarity of all six of them smiling at once. "Okay," Ivy said seriously. "I'll take the keys to my car now." Everyone laughed, Angel and Cordelia the loudest, and while Ivy put on a bit of a pout over being forced to share Cordelia's old jeep with her siblings, she remained cheerful.

"Can you believe it?" he asked rhetorically as he dished slices of cake onto waiting plates in Cordy's hands. "Sixteen!"

"Angel, if you pull out a 'just yesterday they were kids' line I'll smack you." Cordelia spooned ice cream and rolled her eyes. "We've discussed this - kids grow up." She might have added that there was nothing they could do about it, but saying that to a man who was close to three hundred years old yet looked about thirty was laughable. Angel sighed and jabbed a fork rather savagely into his slice of cake. "They're too young to grow up," he insisted, well aware of how sappy he sounded. His latest parenting books assured him that it was normal to want to keep his kids young, but once in awhile he'd remember the tough, ass-kicking hunter he used to be and wonder who was living in his skin these days. It had also recently hit him that not just the kids were getting older - Cordelia had recently passed her thirty-fifth birthday and for the first time looked older than Angel (who wouldn't ever say that near her, even under torture or threat of death); Wes had just hit the forty milestone and even Fred and Gunn were starting to show little signs of their age….and Angel was jealous. Horribly jealous, in fact, that his family was growing and changing together while he remained the same, always and forever.

Cordelia waved a hand across his face. "Yoo-hoo, earth to Angel. Where's your head at?" Angel shrugged her off with a smile and an excuse. "Just thinking about some of their past birthdays. Ready for presents?"

Nobody had been able to resist buying the kids extravagant gifts and had used the sweet sixteen excuse as justification. Cordelia had managed to hold herself back some and presented the six of them with silver cross necklaces inscribed with their names, but Angel had spent weeks scouring the city for the best gifts he could think of for each of his children. Everyone had been appropriately pleased with what he'd given them and he received tight hugs from them all. As the evening wore on and the din increased with each round of drinks and cake, Wesley joined Angel in the kitchen. "They'll be set for the next two years with all they got."

"They'll only turn sixteen once," Angel shrugged. "And it doesn't help that they've got so many parents."

"It helps a great deal," Wes murmured, then helped himself to some of the better scotch Cordy kept on hand for when he visited. "I've been thinking…they're getting older, more mature, maybe it's time we started thinking about telling them the truth about their past."

Angel had been thinking along similar lines lately, though he'd been wondering when the kids would start asking questions he'd no longer feel as justified brushing off. "Cordy won't like it, but it's something to think about. I'll talk to her." And it was that decision most of all that made Angel truly regret his children weren't young enough to protect from everything anymore.

* * *

There were a lot of things Libby loved - most of them things that would make other kids her age shiver with fear - but the one thing in her life she had no tolerance for was school. It was with a steadily growing impatience that she dragged herself out of bed every morning with barely enough time to brush her teeth (often because she'd collapsed into that bed a mere hour or two before her alarm sounded) before piling into the old yellow Jeep her mother had passed onto them the previous November, when they'd turned sixteen. This particular morning was no different, though Noah nearly sustained a head injury when he poked his head in her door and she threw her alarm clock at him, only narrowly missing.

"Are you sick?" he demanded in his gentle-but-commanding voice. He came and sat on the edge of her bed and pressed his hand to her forehead. "You wouldn't have missed if you weren't sick."

She slapped at his hand. "Go away. I'm sleeping."

He ignored her like usual. "I think you have a fever."

With a heavy sigh, Libby rolled out of bed and pulled on the first pair of pants she found on the floor that didn't have blood or demon slime on them. The shirt she'd passed out in would do for the day. Noah only moved to corner her and study her face with narrowed eyes. These days she had to look up to meet his gaze and - while she could have easily taken him down - let him be the concerned brother for a moment. "I'm fine. I'm just tired. I didn't get in until-"

"Four, I know. You're not fine; you're running yourself into the ground patrolling every night. You've probably got a cold starting, too."

Libby had to agree that she felt wearier than normal, and her green eyes had circles under them so dark they nearly matched her hair. "Thanks, _Dad_. Now get out of my way. If you don't hurry, Caleb's going to leave without us." She couldn't have cared less if Caleb went to school without her, but Noah was too responsible to ditch. He didn't even like being late, so with a huff of annoyance rushed out to get ready.

With Noah gone Libby was sorely tempted to crawl back into bed and not surface until the sun went down, but willpower was something she had in spades so instead she ran a comb through her hair, picked up her bag (containing last night's homework which had never got done) and trudged down to the kitchen.

"Morning Pumpkin!" Her father was clearly surprised to see her out of bed early enough to sit down for breakfast. Ivy appraised her critically. "How is it possible for a human to live in California and be as pale as you are?" Libby briefly debated stabbing her recently-blonde sister with a fork, but decided she didn't have the energy. "What's the matter?" Ivy demanded as Libby sat. "Are you sick or something?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" Libby growled.

Ivy shrugged. "No scathing comeback usually means you're sick."

If she hadn't been sick - which she was, though didn't realize it - she could have used the excuse to go back to the blessed, quiet, comfortable haven of her bed. But delirium was just starting to get the better of her so she shrugged off her sister's twisted concern. Angel wasn't as easy to deter. The second the word 'sick' had left Ivy's mouth, he'd jumped to get the thermometer and had it jammed in Libby's ear before she could react.

_All I want for Christmas is vampire reflexes_, she thought, and more seriously considered stabbing her father with a fork.

"You have a bit of a fever," Angel frowned. "You look completely worn out. What time did you get in last night?"

Libby met his suspicious gaze unflinchingly. "After twelve." It wasn't a lie, four _was _after twelve, and technically she had no curfew - something a couple of her siblings were perpetually outraged over, as everyone else had to be home by eleven on school nights. And Angel trusted her almost implicitly these days; they often went patrolling together until the wee hours. Unfortunately her siblings didn't have qualms about throwing her under the bus occasionally, and even Noah was no exception.

"Yeah, four hours after twelve," he said as he strolled into the kitchen.

Libby glowered at him and called him a particularly vulgar name. It was also highly unfortunate that Cordelia had been just behind Noah and had heard the whole exchange.

"_Four?_" she thundered. The room cleared almost instantly, save for Libby and Angel. Libby wasn't afraid of her mother, but she did respect her enough to be properly remorseful. An angry thirty-five year old Cordelia Chase made the high school version look like a spitting kitten, and secretly Libby wondered if the little slice of demon in her mother was more evil than anyone had considered.

"How many days this week have you been out past midnight?"

Libby didn't like where this was headed, but she didn't hedge. "All of them."

Cordelia made a sound that reminded Libby and Angel of an angry werewolf. "That ends now. You're sixteen. You're human. Your body obviously can't cope with the stress of what you're doing."

It wasn't the direction Libby had expected her to take. She'd figured Cordelia would have been royally pissed about her rolling in at whatever hour pleased her. Libby was perplexed, and it was obvious. "Okay…" she said slowly. "So…?"

"So go back to bed, and tonight after dinner the three of us are going to have a looong chat."

Absolutely mystified, Libby headed back up the stairs. She wasn't looking forward to the after dinner talk, but what stuck out in her mind was what Cordelia had said about her being human. The older she got and the more she hunted, the more Libby realized that being human was her greatest pitfall. She certainly wasn't about to go and get herself turned, but what if she could find another solution?

She was asleep in seconds and stayed that way for twelve solid hours. When she woke she felt worse than she had in years. Her head pounded, her body ached, and she was either burning up or freezing cold depending on the minute. Still, she shuffled down the stairs to find a nearly empty house. Bridget was the only person around, curled up on the couch with her laptop and their old cat Selina at her side.

"Hey. Where is everybody?"

Bridget barely glanced up. "Some work emergency, and everybody else just kinda disappeared."

"Ah. What are you doing here?"

"Heard you were sick."

Libby eyed Bridget with mild surprise. Bee was usually most focused on herself, and a sick sibling wasn't something that would have her coming across town to camp out on the couch for. Noah was really the only nursemaid of the bunch, and even he was out. "Uh huh," she commented, tone dripping with disbelief. Bridget ignored it. "Dad had one of the witches at work make you some kind of healing tea. It's on the counter."

"I've never seen you look so awful," Bridget continued when Libby had returned with a mug of the aforementioned tea.

"The curse of humanity," Libby muttered darkly. "You're lucky to have that super brain of yours - at least it's not going to get you killed one day."

Bridget abandoned all pretence of working on her computer to give Libby a hard stare. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that mom was right this morning, I _can't _keep doing what I'm doing or else I'm going to run myself into the ground and make a mistake that'll get me killed." Libby was not happy with the situation, but having to admit a weakness to Bridget of all people was the worst part. But then Bridget said something that turned the whole situation on its head: "Maybe I can help."

"How?"

Bridget looked almost uncomfortable, and for a moment it seemed as if Bee wasn't sure she could trust Libby with the information, but Libby waited silently and Bridget exhaled a long breath. "Okay, well, I can't give you much right now, but I've been studying vampire blood and its properties and a whole bunch of stuff that would bore you to death, but I want to try some things basically involving mixing vampire and human blood together."

Libby wasn't a genius like her sister, but she wasn't an idiot either and figured out pretty quickly where Bridget was going with this. "But vampire blood kills human cells…that's why there _are _vampires."

"That's true, but that's after a vampire has drained the human of most of his or her own blood, so there's not much left to fight the invasion of the foreign cells." Bridget looked positively gleeful to have a chance to discuss her project with someone who could follow along fairly well. "But I'm focusing on the possibility of combining the two cells together as opposed to one overpowering the other."

"That's…ambitious." Libby was skeptical and didn't bother trying to hide it. "And if you can make that happen, you want to use me as your guinea pig to test it out, right?"

Bridget frowned. "I was hoping you would be a little less perceptive than that, but yeah, pretty much."

"Okay, Bee," Libby laughed. "I'm not going to sign anything, but I'll think about it. If you can somehow outsmart countless other people who I'm _sure _have already attempted this, I mean."

"Consider what something like that could do for you, Lib." Bridget had gone deadly serious. "If I can do what I want to here, it could mean you having everything a vampire does, minus the vampire part."

Libby did consider it, she'd been considering it since that morning at breakfast. The coincidence was huge, but she had learned never to ignore even the smallest mystical connection. The tea she'd been drinking was potent; she was already beginning to feel better and the idea of being able to heal that quickly naturally was too hard to brush off. "What do you need from me?"

Bridget didn't hesitate this time, and looked almost ferocious in her determination. "Vampire blood, and lots of it."

* * *

_C.C. Incorporated _

_Queen C Industries. _

_Chase Enterprises. _

Cordelia tapped her freshly manicured nail on the keyboard and considered the list so far. The last one had potential, but _Chase _was such a common name…maybe she'd get Angel to come up with some obscure Irish word for her letterhead. Screw that, she thought. My company, _my _name. The last several years had seen her portfolio grow quite thick: property, the Hyperion, a partnership in AIS, carefully selected stocks - she wasn't quite Trump, but she was a hell of a lot farther in life than she'd though possible back in high school, when her ambitions had run along the lines of a rich _husband_.

"Whatcha thinkin' about?"

Cordelia's eyes snapped to the doorway to see a grinning Xander Harris in the frame. "I was thinking who needs a rich husband?" she said and jumped up to embrace him. "What are you doing here?"

"I can't drop in on my favourite girl from time to time?"

"Don't let Willow or Buffy hear you say that," she advised as they settled onto the sofa by the window. "But, no, it's not that easy to just drop in when you live in England."

Xander propped a foot on the opposite knee, leaned back, and looked mighty pleased with himself. "Good thing I don't live in England anymore."

"What?"

"I got sick of all the rain, thought I'd come and hang out with you guys for awhile."

Cordelia couldn't explain or contain the excitement she felt at the announcement. "You're here to stay? Have you got a place yet? You have to let me help you shop for furniture. Without me, you'll wind up with milk crates and a futon."

Xander threw back his head and laughed.

"So what happened with the Council then? Do you need a job?"

"Part of the reason I'm moving over here is to be the North American liaison, so technically I don't need a job, but I was hoping to be able to use AIS as my base of operations."

"Fine with me. I'll have to talk it over with the others though…formalities" she waved a hand dismissively. "Have you had- oh, hang on." The vision raced through her mind and when it ended she put a call to Angel's cell. Xander looked mildly surprised.

"Your eyes go white."

"Yeah. So, have you had lunch yet today?"

"You know me, I'm always in the mood for a meal."

Over takeout Chinese Cordelia filled Xander in on what had happened since his last visit. "…so Angel and Wes think we should put Libby on the payroll. They think it'll be easier to keep an eye on her that way."

"I can see the logic there," Xander said around a mouthful of noodles. Cordelia grimaced. "I hate the idea, but I can see their point too. The problem with Libby is she doesn't think she needs rules. She acts like she's got the right to do whatever she wants whenever she wants."

"That sounds a lot like someone else I know, sitting next to me right now."

The comment was rewarded with a sigh. "That's the other problem. Out of all my kids, I see the most of myself in Libby."

Xander set aside his carton to pat his old flame gently on the knee. "I could have pointed that out to you years ago, the day I met her."

"It's too bad I didn't realize it until she started wearing shoes that I wanted to borrow." Libby's main passion in life may have been hunting evil, but an appreciation of fabulous shoes had started to manifest in her in the last year or so. It was the only thing Cordelia could approve of with good conscience lately. "At least I can connect with her on _something_."

"That's a lot more than some other mothers might say about their daughters. You should count yourself lucky. Remember you and Constance back when you were sixteen?"

Cordelia snorted. "That was her Valium period. I see your point, but how many mothers have daughters who like to go out and kill monsters for fun?"

"Probably nobody in your kids' PTA, but there are a lot of Slayers out there, and demon hunters, and _you_. You're the only mother that counts here, and as far as I know, you're awesome at it. I don't know how many women could raise six teenagers and run your own empire."

Cordelia regarded her old friend for a moment. He looked older than he should have, or more weathered anyway, with that eye patch and a few strands of gray in his hair, but it suited him. So did the wisdom he'd gained somewhere along the way. "I knew there was a reason I liked having you around."

"You do?" he grinned cheekily, and for a moment she was back in high school. "So what about the rest of the kids? Who else is giving you trouble?"

"Nobody at the moment. Even Ivy's behaving herself lately. Except she went blonde - Angel just about dropped dead when he saw it. Said it reminded him that he met Buffy at that age, and the idea of an older man going after Ivy made him want to tear out some throats."

"He finally realized what a dirty old man he was?"

"I guess. He went into full brood-mode after that and still looks at Ivy funny sometimes."

They finished lunch and played catch-up for another half an hour or so before Xander had to leave. Cordelia gave him a tight hug at the door. "Come for dinner on Friday," she commanded. "We can go over business then."

"Yes ma'am," Xander saluted smartly.

She went back to work in a much better mood than she'd started the day in. She even contemplated calling up Fred and Sheila to go for cocktails after work. They hadn't done a girls night in ages. She was even feeling charitable enough to invite that werewolf girl Nina that Angel had been seeing lately. She pulled out her phone to text Angel for Nina's number when there was another knock on the doorframe. Cordelia glanced up, smile ready, and felt the shock reverberate from her head right through to her toes. She was on her feet instantly. "What the hell do you want?"

Wilson Christopher, the scumbag who'd taken advantage of her, got her pregnant and then left her to die at the hands of a demon, stood in the doorway. She hadn't laid eyes on him since the night they'd spent together sixteen years before, and it shocked her to realize that she'd mostly forgotten what he'd looked like. Not enough that she didn't recognize him, but she couldn't tell how much he'd changed over the years. Wilson, who looked like he'd expected just this reaction, kept out of arm's reach and shrugged. "To apologize."

Cordelia was momentarily speechless. There was no fanfare, no 'hey babe, been awhile', and apparently no bull. "Why?" she demanded cautiously. Wilson smiled tightly, uncomfortably. "Part of the program. One of the steps is to apologize for all the shit I did back then."

Cordelia snorted and relaxed. "A little late, don'tcha think? It's been sixteen years…no statue of limitations for you?"

He inched his way into the room and looked around a little. "Well, yeah, but I figured if anyone deserved to kick me in the ass it was you. I really fucked you over. If it's any consolation, I had no idea you'd actually have to have the kids." At that, Cordelia lost her breath. "How do you know that?" Wilson looked like he'd just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Noah came to see me."

"What?" She couldn't have been more stunned if she tried. "When?"

"About three years ago, I think. Yeah."

"How did he even - What did he say to you?"

"Called me an asshole for knocking up his mother in the name of a demon."

She'd been wrong before: she was more stunned, and couldn't verbalize more than a strangled sound from the back of her throat. Wilson pushed on, either oblivious to or deliberately ignoring her reaction.

"He was right. Gave me a kick in the ass I sorely needed…which is why I'm here now. So, you know, sorry about all that."

It took her a moment to find her voice, and when she did, she could barely control the tremor in it. "You had better sit your ass down and tell me _exactly _what happened when my son came to see you."

To his credit, Wilson was smart enough to do as he was told.


	26. ch 26

**A/N: **To Ashes at Midnight - thanks so much for the review! I seriously didn't think anyone would take the time. It's the only motivator to keep going, as most FF writers know!  
I have a lot of plot points I want to get through, so I'm really trying not to get lost in details, but I have a very hard time keeping things short. C'est la vie!

* * *

Noah studied his target with the focus of a surgeon performing a very delicate procedure. The timing would have to be precise, of course, it was just that she was so quick with her movements that it was proving impossible to get the shot he wanted. He had probably a couple hundred shots of Libby and their dad sword-fighting their way around the training room, but the perfect one was eluding him. Finally she paused long enough for him to snap the photo, and he instinctively knew it was the one he'd been waiting for. She looked like she could have walked out of a Tarantino movie.

"That's great!" he called. They paid him no attention and he smiled a little and continued snapping away with his camera. Finally Libby got the upper hand and nearly sliced Angel's arm off when she disarmed him. Noah had that on film as well and briefly wondered what his teacher would think of that one. _Probably not the best one to use_, he thought with a smirk. He set the camera down and jogged over to them with a towel.

"You ok, Dad?"

Angel waved off the concern as he mopped the blood off his arm, the wound already healed. "I'm fine. Nice shot Honey," he said admiringly to Libby. Noah didn't even shake his head anymore at the odd relationship Libby and Angel had. Not many kids he knew could maim their parent and get a pat on the back for it.

Libby downed half a bottle of water and towelled off her brow. "Get the picture you wanted?"

"Yep, it looks awesome. Wait'll you see it."

She looked skeptical. "You know, you're just begging for trouble doing that project."

It was an argument that had grown old very quickly. He'd been assigned to do a photo essay on his life for his photography class, and since his family _was _his life, he was determined to show them the way that he saw them. "Have a little faith, Lib," he snapped. "It'll be fine."

She rolled her eyes but shrugged. "Whatever. I trust you not to reveal my secret identity."

Noah laughed. "Cute."

"Want to do some training?" Angel interjected hopefully.

"Actually, Caleb's supposed to be meeting me here for a workout. Want to stick around?" His parents used to have to force all the kids to come in once a week to learn self-defense, but once they all hit high school and realized that training also put them in good shape, there were usually a few of them at the gym most nights in the week.

Libby reached for the bloody towel in Angel's hand. "Here, I'll take that back with me." Angel passed it over. "What are you up to tonight?"

"Movie with April and Mia," Libby replied with exaggerated patience. She'd been an official employee of AIS for a month, and their mom and dad made sure that on her nights off she did normal teenage girl things. It wasn't going over well, but Libby was smart enough not to push things too soon. Noah heartily approved of what his parents were doing; he actually got to spend time with her again, and he didn't fear for her life half as much. "Have fun!" he called as she headed to the change room. She flipped him the bird over her shoulder and he laughed. Angel convinced him to do some light sparring while they waited on Caleb and proceeded to be in the involved father that he was and grill Noah on his life.

"So how're things with Mia going?"

Noah couldn't keep the grin off his face at the thought of his girlfriend of eight months. He was pretty sure he'd been in love with her since he was thirteen - it had just taken her a little time to come around. "Good. Really good."

Angel was silent for a moment, and then Noah could _swear _his father blushed. Which was impossible. But he had that mortified look on his face that only meant a very awkward conversation was about to follow. "Do we, ah, need to have the…talk?"

Noah could feel his own cheeks flaming, and he shook his head vehemently. "No! No, we're good. Um, we're not _there _yet."

"Well you want to be prepared…"

"Dad, _please_ stop. If I have any questions, I'll ask. I promise." In fact he'd already had a very informative chat with Gunn over a pickup game of basketball at the park. He would have sold his soul before asking his father's advice on sex. The door of the gym banged open suddenly, and both Noah and Angel couldn't have been more relieved. "Oh, thank god," they muttered in unison, and despite the awkwardness shared a smile.

Caleb sauntered in and tossed his gym bag to the bench by the wall. "Ready to get your ass whupped?" he said cheerfully. Noah didn't rise to the bait. In their family Caleb had the market cornered on macho jock. He was the star of the varsity soccer team and had competed in a triathlon over the past summer, and didn't let anyone forget it. Noah figured it was his shtick - he had to stand out some way in a family as strange as theirs.

But Noah was no slouch when it came to a fight. He was in that gym training with his dad or Libby or anyone who'd have him two or three times a week, mainly because he wanted to be prepared to survive any kind of attack that might come his way.

"Let's have a fair fight, boys," Angel said indulgently as they went over to the mats. But before they could get started the door slammed open again and his mother came storming through.

"Vision?" Angel asked immediately as she marched over to them. She ignored him and went straight to Noah. He resisted the urge to shrink back; she looked positively murderous. "What's wrong, Mom?"

"Wilson Christopher was just here," she said, her eyes narrowed and searching. Noah swallowed heavily. "Oh." He vaguely heard his dad's exclamation of surprise, but didn't dare tear his eyes away from Cordelia. It was when you looked away that the predator attacked.

"_Oh_?" she said shrilly. "That's all you have to say?"

_Oh shit _would have been more appropriate, but he didn't say anything, knowing it was best to wait her out. He didn't have to wait long for her to whirl on Angel. "Wilson just told me that Noah went to visit him three _years _ago. He said he-" she faltered for a moment before gathering strength. "He said Noah _knew_, and called him an asshole for doing it."

Now faced with two very angry and incredulous parents respectively, and a thoroughly confused brother, Noah wanted to run. He wanted to run and never look back. He had _never _thought Wilson Christopher would blow his secret wide open. In fact Noah hadn't thought of the man in years.

Cordelia grabbed his shoulders. "How did you even find out?" He realized that beneath the anger in her eyes was terror and he deflated. "I…don't know what to say."

"You can start with the truth," Angel interjected. Noah sensed he'd have an ally in his father on this matter, but he truly didn't know how to tell the truth without hurting someone.

"What the hell is going on?" Caleb demanded. Cordelia looked between her sons, amazed. "You never told them?"

"How could I?" he said finally, accepting defeat. "That guy turned out to be such a loser. I didn't want anyone to waste their time when we already have a father. Two fathers."

"Wait a minute," Caleb said slowly, realization dawning. "Are you saying you know our biological father? And you never told us?"

"I was only trying to protect everyone." Noah explained miserably. By that point he was staring at his feet, and as a consequence didn't see the fist swing around until it cracked him in the jaw, sending him to the floor. Noah lay there for a second while Cordelia half heartedly scolded Caleb for punching him. "It's okay, Mom," he said as he got to his feet. "I deserved it."

"You deserve a lot more than that," Caleb snapped threateningly. It was then that Angel intervened. "Enough. You two can work this out later. Right now, Noah, you're going to tell us exactly how you learned the truth."

This was the tricky part. He'd learned the truth by snooping in Wesley's private files, and if he admitted that then it would most likely cause big problems within the family. He was willing to bet that nobody else knew that Wesley kept files on everyone. Finally he settled on a half-truth. "I found a file with Wilson's name in it. Remember when I helped put all your old case files in the new database?" That part was true, anyway. "Well I found a file that was dated on our birthday so I was curious and read it."

"Wesley," Cordelia said after a moment. "Of course Wes would have done up a file. Damn it. Why didn't you ever talk to us about it?"

_Is she __**serious**_? He couldn't keep the disbelief out of his voice. "Are you kidding? I've been begging you since I was ten to tell me the truth about who we are! You've been so determined to keep all these secrets all our lives… how could I tell you?"

"Hey!" Caleb yelled suddenly. "Will somebody _please _tell me what the hell is going on? Why did this guy come to see you? And what secrets?" He shot both parents a glare. "We're not stupid, we know all about who you were before you got your soul," he said to Angel, who suddenly looked stricken. "It's not that hard to find that kind of information online, and that didn't freak us out, so what could be so horrible that you've kept hidden all this time? For Christ's sake, it's not like we're demon spawn or anything!"

Cordelia massaged her temples and Angel crossed his arms defensively. Noah shrugged. "Well, actually…"

Caleb's mouth dropped open. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

Before anyone could say more, Libby came sauntering over from the change room. "What's going on?" Noah tried desperately to signal her something…_anything_ to make her keep her mouth shut. Caleb whirled on her and pointed an accusing finger at their mother. "_Apparently_we're demon spawn!"

Libby's brows hit her hairline and she shot a quick look at Noah. "What?" Caleb angrily filled her in on all that had happened in the last ten minutes. Had it only been that long? It felt like an eternity had passed. Noah thanked his lucky stars that Libby was sharp enough to read the situation in the span of a heartbeat. "Ok…" she said slowly and finally focused on Angel, who Noah could tell was trying to figure his daughter out. "I guess it's time for the truth, huh?" she said after a contemplative moment.

Angel gave Cordelia's hand a squeeze and nodded. "I guess it is."

* * *

"So let me get this straight," Ivy was saying, shaking her head like the idea wouldn't settle enough for her to comprehend. "You're saying that we were supposed to be demons? And you were only pregnant with us for a day?"

Noah longed to wrap a comforting arm around his mother's shoulder, but knew that doing anything to refocus the attention on himself would be a bad idea at the moment. "Don't forget the part that _he _knew," Caleb said, shooting Noah a deadly glare. Noah ignored him and tried to judge how everyone else was handling the news. Ivy, he knew, would be just as mad as Caleb once she wrapped her mind around it all; Libby already knew, of course, but was doing an admirable job of pretending she didn't. He'd managed to get her alone just long enough to talk her out of implicating herself, though part of him wished he hadn't so he'd have someone on his side. Darren hadn't said much yet, he just looked pensive; and Bridget looked…well, she looked wholly unsurprised.

Hum. That was interesting.

Of course it was entirely possible - likely even - that in the three years Bridget had been living with Wes and Fred she would have stumbled across those same files that he'd found in Wesley's office. He wasn't even surprised that she hadn't mentioned it; she was usually too wrapped up in her own life to notice everyone else.

He was dragged back to the conversation when Darren finally spoke up. "Look, we can all agree that keeping this stuff a secret was a bad idea, but is it really that big a deal? I mean, the way mom had us is pretty par for the course in this family, isn't it?"

Noah wondered if everyone else was as stunned by this as he was. He'd never known Darren to have such profound insight. Still waters ran deep, he figured. Darren was the quiet one, and usually spent most of his time with his band or one of the harem of girls he had instead of the family, so this was quite a revelation.

Then he was even more stunned when his mother burst into tears. Angel and Wesley both leapt to their feet to hand her tissues, and after a quick torrent of tears, she was dabbing at her eyes, outburst over. "I'm so, so sorry. I wanted to protect you all from at least one bad thing because I didn't want you think that I ever regretted having you kids. You're the best thing I ever did, even if it was by accident."

It was the most heartfelt declaration Noah had ever heard from his mom. He knew Cordelia loved them, but she'd always kept a tight rein on her emotions. He couldn't help going over and wrapping his arms tightly around his mother. For a moment she held on to him like he was the life raft that would keep her from drowning.

"We forgive you," Libby said, glaring at her siblings, daring them to contradict her. There were mumbled agreements around the room but Noah knew that Caleb at least would take awhile to actually come around. His suspicions were confirmed when Caleb crossed his arms and shot Noah an icy look. "What I don't forgive is _you_ keeping this to yourself. You knew exactly how much we all wanted to know the truth."

Before he could reply, Bridget interrupted. "Um, I have a ton of homework to finish for tomorrow. Can I go?"

The parents were taken aback and shared a look. "Are you sure?" Wesley asked. "You don't have any questions?"

"Nah, I'm good. Frankly I have more important things to worry about."

Noah cracked a smile. Typical Bee. Maybe the parents would realize that all those secrets weren't as monumental life-changers they'd anticipated them to be.

"Well, I suppose I can get a ride home later," Wesley mused and dug around in his jacket for his car keys.

"Actually, I can drop her off," Libby said. "I can still make the movie with April and Mia if I leave now."

Caleb exploded. "Are you two _serious_?"

Bridget rolled her eyes. "Would you relax? Secret's out. It's not going anywhere." With that, the girls left, and for awhile Caleb, Ivy and Darren grilled the parents for details. Noah's mind wandered as he grew bored with the conversation, but he knew if he left too it would just cause more drama. He wished he'd gone to the movie with Libby so he could work in some extra time with Mia; he thought about his photography project and mentally reviewed what he'd done so far - he still had to schedule some time with Lorne for a photo op, and he had a really great idea of incorporating Darren into that shot. He'd just have to-

"Hellooo, earth to Noah?"

He blinked owlishly to see Cordelia waving a hand in front of his face. "Sorry, what?" The others, he saw, were filing out of the kitchen. Presumably he'd missed the end of the conversation. "So," he said slowly. "Are we good?"

"I'm sure as hell not ok with you going to see Wilson without telling anyone," Cordelia glared. "We taught you better than _that_."

_Libby knew,_ he thought defensively. "I am sorry about that and of course I wouldn't do anything like that now, but it was years ago…can we just say lesson learned?" He hoped that Cordelia would just be so glad none of her kids hated her that she wouldn't care too much about punishing him for such an old offence. He watched the silent conversation she had with Angel and Wesley, and could follow along as easily as if they'd been speaking aloud. He knew he was off the hook before his mom finally shrugged and agreed. "But no more secrets," she said, "From anybody, ok?"

He wondered if she was being hopeful or just naïve. There was no way her six teenaged children were going to stop keeping secrets from their parents. He, however, vowed to at least try. "Deal."

Later, when he was in his room attempting to power through his math homework, there was a tap on his door and Wesley poked his head in. "Can I interrupt?"

"Yes, _please_."

Wes chuckled and shut the door behind him. "Math was never my favourite either. Thankfully Christian has Fred to rely on when he gets math homework."

"I'm pretty sure you can handle first-grade math, Dad. So what's up?"

The mood turned serious very quickly, and Noah had a sudden inkling of where this might be headed. His instincts proved correct when Wesley frowned and said, "I'm not sure I believe what you told us about where you got the information on Wilson."

"You don't?" _Tread carefully, Chase. _

"I know that any file I wrote on that case didn't have enough information for you to infer that he was your father. Things happened very quickly that night; I'm not even sure the file was completed in all the excitement."

So Wesley was treading carefully as well. He didn't want to implicate what he had on everyone if Noah didn't admit he'd already seen it all. Noah wasn't surprised, one didn't last long in their kind of life by being stupid. He engaged Wesley in a staring match for a moment before coming to the conclusion that if Wes wanted to punish Noah, he would have said something in front of Cordelia and Angel.

"You're right," he relented. "But I was trying to protect you more than me by not telling the truth."

Wesley sat back and Noah could practically the wheels turning behind those intelligent blue eyes. "I see there's no point in beating around the bush," he said after a moment of contemplation. Noah shrugged. "No, probably not. I guess I owe you an explanation." So he explained how he'd found the files in Wesley's office when he was at a point in his life where he was obsessed with learning who is birth father was. "I've never felt good about going through your files, and I'm sorry that I violated your trust like that."

"And why did you feel like you needed to protect me?"

"Well…I figured that Mom and Dad probably didn't know you have personal files on everyone, but I know you and I know that you're probably just being organized."

Noah didn't really like how intently Wesley was studying him, it made him want to squirm in his seat. He wasn't often the focus of the parental inquisition, and he found he didn't like the attention.

"Do you regret it?"

"Honestly, I regret that I had to do something wrong to get the information, but I don't regret that I did get it. It got me to realize that I was better off _not_worrying about the guy. He really was a loser."

Another pregnant pause, then Wesley nodded once and got to his feet. "Right. Well, in the spirit of honesty, I'm going to have a chat with Angel and Cordelia about this. I'll explain that we've worked this matter out between us. Good night, son."

And then he was gone, and Noah was left feeling very confused. Had they worked the matter out between them? It certainly didn't seem like it - Wesley hadn't once said how he felt about Noah breaking into his house and personal files. One thing was pretty clear to Noah though, Wesley was downstairs right now telling Angel and Cordelia about his personal files on everyone in the family, and Noah suspected he was doing so only to prevent Noah from using them as leverage one day. It was a very disturbing realization.

* * *

Bridget regarded her sister thoughtfully as they backed out of the drive. She didn't believe for a second that Noah had just stumbled across a random file at AIS pertaining to their birth father. She'd lived with Wes and Fred long enough to find the cache of files her dad kept, and she remembered that time years ago when Noah had had her distract Fred with questions for a family tree project while he searched the house. There was also no way he would have played cat burglar without Libby's help.

"So Noah's story is bull, right?"

Libby shot her a sidelong glance. "Yeah, and I'm sure you know exactly where he got his information. How come you never brought it up if you found out who he was?"

Bridget shrugged. "Same reason as you, I guess. I found his name and when I did an internet search on him I figured he wasn't worth worrying about." And by the time she had found Wilson Christopher's name, she'd outgrown her curiosity of him and had turned her focus on working toward gaining an internship with that Wolfram and Hart program. They hit a red light and Libby reached around her seat and tossed a large sealed Ziploc bag into Bridget's lap. She stared down at the blood-soaked towel in the bag and grinned. "Is this what I think it is?"

"I nearly took Dad's arm off to get that, so don't waste it."

"Oh, I won't. Thanks."

"Do you really know what you're doing with this whole thing?"

The doubt was plain in Libby's voice and Bridget didn't blame her. She was attempting to learn on her own how to successfully combine human and vampire blood, and without proper guidance or proper facilities, it was a serious work in progress. "I'm getting there," she said, carefully tucking the towel into her bag. If she managed to get the internship, she intended on getting there a hell of a lot quicker. None of the others would understand, she mused. She and Libby had never been the closest of sisters, but lately Bridget was realizing that maybe it wouldn't hurt to confide in her. After all, Libby _was_ her only source for the vampire blood she needed.

"Turn left here," she commanded, coming to a decision she hoped she wouldn't regret. Libby shot her a look. "We're not going to your house?"

"No. I can't risk doing this kind of experimentation at home."

"So where's your secret lab, Dr. Frankenstein?"

When they pulled up to her 'secret lab', Libby actually looked stunned. "Explain," she demanded. Bridget led the way up to the second floor of her mother's old apartment building and knocked on the familiar door. "It's me," she said quietly, and the door swung open to reveal an empty apartment. "Thanks Dennis. Noah's not the only one who can play Nancy Drew," she said to Libby, who was wandering around the first home they'd ever had, expression unreadable. "Did you know Mom owns this building?" When Bridget had decided to begin this project she'd snooped through the AIS database and her mother's computer to see if there was some place she could use.

"She does? Since when? Man, they never told us _anything_. Long time no see Dennis," Libby said, looking up at a certain spot on the ceiling. "Figuratively, of course."

Bridget followed her sister's gaze and narrowed her eyes. "Can you tell where he is?"

Libby arched her brow. "Yeah."

"That's not normal, you know. Maybe I should study you." Bridget was only half-joking. Libby scoffed. "I just have acute senses. Have to if I want to not get killed. But back to how you found this place. How long have you been coming here?"

"Couple of months. Apparently they use it as a safe house sometimes."

"And you thought it would be a good idea to do your experiments here?" Bridget seldom felt stupid, but the look Libby was giving her made her feel idiotic. She didn't like it and got her back up. "Dennis says they haven't come by in over a year, and anyway, he's a great help. He's got my back." She'd set up a large white board for her notes, and Dennis had taken great pleasure in finally having a means of communication. He was so pleased to have company again he would have shoved Libby out the window right then if she'd asked him to. Libby shrugged. "I guess that makes sense. I'll keep this to myself, but you're going to keep me in the loop."

It wasn't a question. Bridget was mildly taken aback by the look Libby was giving her…it was almost frightening. No wonder she was such a successful hunter. But Bridget couldn't let herself get intimidated and made a show of rolling her eyes. "Fine. I'm going to stay for awhile and do some work. If anyone asks I went to the movie with you."

"You got it, Doc. Later Dennis."

Once Libby had gone Bridget locked the door behind her and switched on her laptop to finish the email she'd been writing to Lilah Morgan earlier in the afternoon. Since the career fair two years ago she'd kept in contact with Lilah, mostly to cultivate a relationship that would help her get the internship she wanted that upcoming summer. Since that fair she'd also done more research on Wolfram and Hart, and because of what she'd learned felt a guilty weight on her shoulders every time she emailed with Lilah or considered who she'd possibly be working for in a few months' time.

But the guilt wasn't enough to deter her. She'd decided that the pros far outweighed the cons in this situation, and when she focused on that the guilt eased considerably. She finished the email and pulled the bloody towel out of her bag. "Ok, Dennis, let's get to work."


End file.
